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MICHAlL J. COLLIER

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TWELVE YEARS

IN A

MONASTERY

Third and Revised Edition

IsMied for the Rationalist Press Association, Limited

London - - Watts and Co.,

Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, K.C.
1912

By Joseph McCabe

(Formerly the \'erv Kev. Father Antony, O.S.F.), '

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PREFACE
TO THE THIRD EDITION

^Vhen this work first appeared, in 1897, the only
:riticism which the author observed among the many
;olumns of press notices was that he would have
lone well to refrain for a few years from writing
ibout the Church he had abandoned. The painful
jxperiences which are recorded in its later chapters
vould not unnaturally suggest that the book must
lave been written in an embittered mood. The
mplication was, however, inaccurate, and when, in
L90S3, a second edition was prepared, after the work
lad been out of print for five years, very little
;hange was needed. The author had had the good
'ortunc, on leaving the Church, to come under the
genial influence of Sir Leslie Stephen, and had
mdeavoured to write in the mood of " good-natured
contempt," which the great critic recommended to
lim. Neither in this nor in any subsequent work
if his will there be found any justification for the
:)etulant Catholic complaint that the author writes
with " bitterness " or " hatred " of the Roman
[Jhurcli.

'i'he truth is that, on re-reading the book after
m interval of nine years, for the purpose of pre-
Daring a popular oflition, the moderation of its
:emper somewhat surprises the author. The reader

B ▼

vi PREFACE

may judge for himself whether the system depicted
in the following pages has been harshly judged in
the few phrases of censure which have been admitted
into the work. The author himself looks back with
astonishment on features of that system which had
almost faded from his memory, and is amazed to
think that such a system still commands the nominal
allegiance of large numbers of educated men and
refined women. The Rome of history we all know
— the Rome which retained the bandage of ignor-
ance about the eyes of Europe for a thousand years,
and, while exhibiting a spectacle of continuous and
unblushing immorality in its most sacred courts,
employed the rack and the stake to intimidate any
man who would venture to impugn its sanctity or
its truth. But there is a widespread feeling that
the Reformation chastened the Church of Rome,
and that at least in the nineteenth and twentieth
century it has ground, whatever its superstitions,
to claim to be one of the greatest spiritual forces
in the world.

This description of the Roman system by one who
had intimate experience of it for many years,
written with cold impartiality at a time when every
feature was still fresh in his memory, must give
ground for reflection to those who would grant
Catholicism some strange preference over the
Reformed Christian Churches, The work is not an
indictment, but a simple description. A distin-
guished London priest once told the author that it
had had a considerable influence in checking the
flow of " converts " from the English to the Roman
Church. To such " movements of population " the

PREFACE vii

author is genially indifferent. His aim was solely to
present to tliose who Avere interested a candid
account of intimate Roman Catholic life and of the
author's career as monk, priest, and professor ; and
the constant circulation of the book fifteen years
after its first publication, no less than the cordial
welcome extended to it by men so diverse as Sir
John Robinson, Sir Walter Besant, Dr. St. George
Mivart, and Mr. Stead, have encouraged the author
to think that it was interesting in substance and
moderate in temper. Yet, when he looks back upon
that system across sixteen years' experience of
"worldly life " — to use the phrase of his monastic
days — he is disposed to use a harsher language in
characterising its profound hypocrisy and its wilful
encouragement of delusions. More than sixteen
years ago the author looked out, timidly and
anxiously, from the windows of a monastery upon
what he had been taught to call, with a shudder,
"the world" — the world into which an honest
change of convictions now forced him. He has
found a sweeter and happier life, and finer types
of men and women, in that broad world, and now
looks back with a shudder on the musty, insincere,
and oppressive life of the cloister from which he was
happily delivered.

Yet the temptation to add a censorious language
to the book shall be resisted. It remains, in its
third edition, a cold and detached depictment of
modern monasticism, and of so much of the inner
life of the Roman clergy as came within the author's
knowledge. Considerable revision was needed in
preparing the book for the wider public to which

B 2

viii PREFACE

it now appeals, but this has consisted only in some
literary correction of the juvenility of the original
and the substitution for certain technical passages of
material of more general interest. Here and there
the text has been brought up to date, but the author
must confess to a certain indifference to the for-
tunes of the Church of Rome which prevents him
from bringing it entirely up to date. The fiction
of the Catholic journalist, that the author hovers
about the fringes of the Church in some mysterious
eagerness to assail it, is too ludicrous for words ;
and the grossly untruthful character and low
cultural standard of such Catholic publications
(especially of the " Catholic Truth Society ") as are
occasionally sent to him, on account of their lurid
references to himself, deter him from taking such
interest in Romanist literature as he should like to
take. The work must, therefore, be regarded as
a plain statement of personal experience, which, in
the fifteen years of its circulation, has attracted
considerable and most virulent abuse, but no serious
criticism.

J. M.

September, 1912.

CONTENTS

CHAP.

I INTRODUCTION .

II VOCATION .

Ill NOVITIATE .

IV STUDENTSHIP

V PRIESTHOOD

VI THE CONFESSIONAL

VII A YEAR AT LOUVAIN

VIII MINISTRY IN LONDON

IX OTHICR ORDERS AND THE LONDON CLERGY

X COUNTRY MINISTRY .

XI SECESSION .

XII CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM

XIII THE CHURCH OF ROME

PAGE

II

. i8

• 31

• 59

. 8i

. 101

. 121

. 146

. 168

. 192

. 208

224

• 239

IX

TWELVE YEARS IN A
MONASTERY

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

MoNASTiciSM, inseparable as it is from every
advanced religious system, seems to be a direct out-
growth from the fundamental religious idea. The
great religions of Asia, Europe, and America, despite
their marked differences in conceiving the ultimate
objects of religious belief, and tlie distinct racial and
territorial influences that have affected them, have been
equally prolific in monastic institutions ; they seem to
have been evoked by the story which is common to
them all. Nor is it strange that that story inspired
such an abdication of earthly joys as the monastic
system embodies. If philosophers have, on their cold
reasonings, been led to despise the changeful forms
for the enduring realities they thought they perceived,
it is not strange that religion should have taught the
same theme with yet deeper effect. Men gazed on
the entrancing vision of a world beyond, until the
attitude of hope and expectancy satisfied them even
now. In the hermit's cell or in the cloistered abbey

11

12 INTRODUCTION

they withdrew from earth and awaited the removal
of the veil.

But the religious mind has entered upon a more
troubled phase of its development. Physical and
economical science have drawn its attention more
eagerly to its present home ; a growing self -conscious-
ness has made it more critical and reflective ; the
outlines of the eternal city are once more fading.
The vision has lost all the sharpness of outline and the
warmth of colour that once made it so potent an
agency in human life. The preacher must speak more
of " the city of men," and be less disdainful of its
interests and pleasures. The age of martyrs, the age
of Crusaders, the age of public penance, or even of
private mortification, must hope for no revival. The
sterner dictates of the older supernaturalism must be
explained away as unsuited to our more energetic age,
or as a blunder on the part of a less enlightened
generation.

Hence when, a few years ago, Dr. St. George Mivart
confessed that he looked forward to a revival of the
religious orders of the thirteenth century, he was
greeted with a smile of incredulity outside the narrow
sphere of his own co-religionists. Monasticism was
dying — not in the odour of sanctity. Men visited
the venerable ruins of abbeys and monasteries, and
re-peopled in spirit the deserted cells and dreary
cloisters and roofless chapel with a kindly archaeological
interest ; smiled at their capacious refectories and
wine-cellars ; dwelt gratefully on the labours of the
Benedictines through the Age of Iron ; conjured up
the picturesque life and fervent activity of the Grey
Friars before their corruption ; and shuddered at the

INTRODUCTION IS

zeal of the White Friars in Inquisition days. But
people would as soon have thought to see the dead
bones of the monks re-clothed with flesh as to see
any great revival of their institutions. France and
Portugal have already expelled the monks for ever ;
Italy and Spain will probably follow their example
within the next twenty years. And how could one
expect them to prosper in the lands of the Reformers?
In point of fact, however, there has been a revival
of monastic institutions in England, Germany, and
the United States proportionate to the revival of Roman
Catholicism. A hundred years ago England flattered
itself that the monastic spirit — if not Popery itself —
was extinguished for ever within its frontiers : the
few survivors of the old oi'ders were still proscribed,
and crept stealthily about the land in strange disguises.
Then the French refugees surreptitiously reintroduced
it, just as they brought over large quantities of the
hated " popish baubles " in their huge boxes, which,
on the king's secret instructions, passed the custom-
house untouched. The long Irish immigration set in,
and the zeal of the aliens kept pace with growing
British tolerance. The removal of Catholic disabilities,
the Oxford movement, and the establishment of the
hierarchy followed in quick succession, and, as Catholi-
cism spread rapidly through the land, the Continental
branches of the monastic orders grasped the oppor-
tunity of once more planting colonies on the fruitful
British soil.

At the present day every order is represented in
England and America, and the vast army of monks
and nuns is tens of thousands strong. The expulsions
from France and Portugal are increasing the number

14 INTRODUCTION

yearly. From train and road one sees the severe
quadrangular structures springing up on the hillsides
and in the quiet valleys as in days of old. Any
important ecclesiastical function in England or the
States attracts crowds of monks in their quaint
mediaeval costumes. After three long centuries they
have started from their graves, and are walking
amongst us once more.

It is true that the fact is not wholly realised outside
their own sphere, for the monks have fallen under
the law of evolution. The Benedictine does not now
bury himself with dusty tomes far from the cities of
men; he is found daily in the British Museum and
nightly in comfortable hotels about Russell Square.
The Grey Friar, erstwhile (and at home even now)
bareheaded and barefooted, flits about the suburbs in
silk hat and patent leather boots, and with silver-
headed cane. The Jesuit is again found everywhere,
but in the garb of an English gentleman. Still, what-
ever be their inconsistency, they come amongst us with
the old profession, the archaic customs and costumes,
of their long-buried brethren.

Their reappearance has provoked several contro-
versies of some interest. When the monks last
vanished from the stage in England they left behind
them a dishonourable record which their enemies were
not slow to publish. Are modern monasteries and
convents the same whited sepulchres as their pre-
decessors, on whom the scourge of the Reformation
fell so heavily? A strong suspicion is raised against
them by their former history; the suspicion is con-
firmed by a number of " escaped " monks and nuns
who have traversed the land proclaiming that such

INTRODUCTION 15

is the case, and it is not allayed by the impenetrable
secrecy of modern monastic life.

One of the least satisfactory features of the con-
troversy that has arisen is that the disputants on both
sides are, as a rule, entirely ignorant of the true
condition of monasteries. The Catholic layman, to
whom the task of defending them is usually com-
mitted, generally knows little more of the interior and
regime of English monasteries than he does of those
of Thibet, The monks preserve the most jealous
secrecy about their inner lives ; their constitutions
strictly forbid them to talk of domestic matters to
outsiders, and their secular servants are enjoined a
like secrecy with regard to the little that falls under
their observation. Roman Catholics who live under the
very shadow of monasteries for many years are usually
found, in spite of a most ardent curiosity, to be com-
pletely ignorant of the ways of conventual life. The
Protestant is, of course, not more enlightened. And it
must be stated that the pictures offered to the public
by impartial and liberal writers are not wholly trust-
worthy. Sir Walter Besant once described to me a
visit of his to a Benedictine monastery for the purpose
of giving colour to his " Westminster." The life was
very edifying ; the fathers had, of course, been " sitting
for their portrait." I remember an occasion when
Dr. Mivart spent twenty-four hours at our Franciscan
monastery for the purpose of describing our life in one
of the magazines. We were duly warned of his coming,
and the portrait he drew of us was admirable.

In such circumstances there is, perhaps, occasion for
an ex-monk to contribute his personal experiences.
The writer, after spendmg twelve years in various

16 INTRODUCTION

monasteries of the Franciscan Order, found himself
compelled in the early part of 1896 to secede from
the Roman Catholic priesthood. During those years
he acquired a large experience of Cathohc educational,
polemical, and administrative methods, and of the
monastic life, and it may not be inopportune to set
it forth in simple narrative.

The religious Order to which I belonged is a revival
of the once famous Province of Grey Friars, the
English section of the Order of St. Francis. At the
beginning of the thirteenth century, immediately after
the foundation of the Order, Agnellus of Pisa success-
fully introduced it into England. Even after the
Reformation a few friars lived in the country in disguise
until the nineteenth century. Then occurred the
remarkable change in the fortunes of the Church of
Rome. The veiy causes which were undermining the
dominion of the Papacy in Italy, Spain, and France —
the growth of a sceptical and critical spirit, and the
broadening of the older feeling for dogma — reopened
England and Germany, and opened the United States,
to the Roman missionaries. The Belgian and French
friars quickly planted colonies in England, and the
German and Italian provinces (each national branch
of the Order is called " a province ") founded the
Order of St. Francis in the United States. The dis-
persion of the Irish Catholics through the English-
speaking world coincided in quite a dramatic fashion
with the new opportunity, and before the end of the
nineteenth century the Franciscans had become fairly
numerous.

Other monastic orders and religious congregations
advanced with the same rapidity. The Jesuit Society

INTRODUCTION 17

has enjoyed its customary prosperity : the Benedictine,
Dominican, CarmeUte, and Carthusian Orders are also
well represented, together with the minor congrega-
tions— Passionists, Marists, Redemptorists, Oblates,
Servites, &c., and the infinite variety of orders and
congregations of women. In the following pages I
shall give such items of interest concerning them (and
the Church of Rome at large) as may have fallen under
my experience. As the narrative follows, for the sake
of convenience, the course of the writer's own life,
it is necessary to commence with the means of recruit-
ing the religious orders and the clergy in general.

CHAPTER II

VOCATION

In an earlier age the " vocation "to a monastic life
was understood to have an element of miracle, and
there are psychologists of our time who affect at least
to find a fascinating problem in the religious " con-
version." It may be said at once that the overwhelm-
ing majority of calls to the monastic life have not the
least interest in either respect. The romantic con-
versions of the days of faith are rare events in our
time. Monasteries and nunneries are no longer the
refuges of converted sinners, of outworn debauchees,
of maimed knights-errant, or of betrayed women.
One does not need the pen of a Huysman to describe
the soul en route to the higher life of the religious
world. The classes from which monasticism draws its
adherents to-day are much less romantic, and much
less creditable, it must be confessed.

Nine-tenths of the rehgious and clerical vocations
of the present day are conceived at the early age of
fourteen or fifteen. As a general rule the boy is fired
with the desire of the priesthood or the monastery pre-
cisely as he is fired with the longing for a military
career. His young imagination is impressed with the
dignity and the importance of the priest's position,
his liturgical finery, his easy circumstances, his un-

18

VOCATION 19

usually wide circle o£ friends and admirers. The
inconveniences o£ the office, very few of which he
really knows, are no more formidable to him than the
stern discipline and the balls and bayonets are to the
martial dreamer ; the one great thorn of the priest's
crown — celibacy — he is utterly incapable of appreciat-
ing. So he declares his wish to his parents, and they
take every precaution to prevent the lapse of his
inclination. In due time, before the breath of the
world can sully the purity of his mind — that is to say,
before he can know what he is about to sacrifice — he
is introduced into the seminary or monastery, where
every means is employed to foster and strengthen his
inclination until he shall have bound himself for life
by an irrevocable vow.

That is the ordinary growth of a vocation to the
clerical state to-day. There are exceptions, but men
of maturer age rarely seek admission into the cloister
now. Occasionally a " convert " to Rome in the first
rush of zeal plunges headlong into ascetical excesses.
Sometimes a man of more advanced j^ears will enter a
monastery in order to attain the priesthood more
easilj' ; monastic superiors are not unwilling, especially
if a generous alms is given to a monastery, to press
a timid aspirant through the episcopal examinations
(which are less formidable to monks), and then allow
him, with a dispensation from Rome, to pass into the
ranks of the secular clergy. There are cases, it is
true, when a man becomes seriously enamoured of the
monastic ideal, and seeks admission into the cloister ;
rarely, however, does his zeal survive the first year
of practical experience.

Apart from such exceptional cases, monasteries and

20 VOCATION

seminaries receive their yearly reinforcements from
boys of from fourteen to fifteen years. Nothing could
be more distant from the Roman Catholic practice
than the AngUcan custom of choosing the Church at
an age of deliberation, during or after the university
career. The Catholic priesthood would be hopelessly
impoverished if that course were adopted. The earliest
boyish wish is jealously consecrated, for Catholic
parents are only too eager to contribute a member to
the ranks of the clergy, and ecclesiastical authorities
are only too deficient in agreeable apphcations for the
dignity. The result is that, instead of a boy being
afforded opportunities of learning what life really is
before he makes a solemn sacrifice of its fairest gifts,
he is carefully preserved from contact with it through
fear of endangering his vocation. Too often, indeed,
he is unduly influenced by the eagerness of his rela-
tives, he enters a seminary or a convent for their
gratification or glorification, and, if he has not the
courage to return, to the disappointment and mortifica-
tion of his friends, he bears for the rest of his life a
broken or a depraved heart under his vestments of silk
and gold. For it must be remembered that before he
reaches what is usually considered to be the age of
deliberation he is chained for life to his oar, as will
appear in the next chapter.

There was no trace of undue family influence in
my own case, but as my vocation was typical in its
banality, a few words on it will illustrate the theme.

My boyhood and early youth were spent under the
shadow of a beautiful Franciscan church at Man-
chester. I have a distinct recollection that, in spite
of my eagerness to serve in the sanctuary, my mind

VOCATION 21

was closed against the idea of joining the fraternity.
The friars frequently suggested it in playful mood,
but I always repulsed tlieir advances. At length a
lay brother ^ with whom I spent long hours in the
sacristy exerted himself to inspire me with a desire
to enter their Order. After many conversations I
yielded to his influence. Twice circumstances inter-
vened to prevent me from joining, and I acquiesced in
them as easily as I had done in my " vocation." At
length a third attempt was made to arrange my admis-
sion, and I rather listlessly gave my name as a pupil
and aspirant to the monastic life. I had been con-
scious throughout of merely yielding to circumstances,
to the advice and exhortations of my elders. There
was no definite craving for the life on my part, cer-
tainly no " voice speaking within me " to which I felt
it a duty to submit. I do not, of course, mean to say
that my subsequent profession was in any way a matter
of constraint. Once within the walls of the monastery,
my mind was seriously and deliberately formed, in so
far as we may regard the reflections of a boy of fifteen
as serious. I am merely describing the manner in
which a religious " vocation " is engendered. About
the same time a Jesuit, the late F. Anderdon, S.J.,
made advances to me from another direction ; and a
third proposal was made to send me to the diocesan
seminary to study for the secular clergy. There seem

1 The inmates of a monastery are divided into two sharr^ly
distinct categories, clerics (priests and clerical students) and lay
brothers. The latter are usually men of little or no education,
■who discharge the menial offices of the community. They are
called lay brothers in contradistinction to the students or cleno
brothers, who, however, familiarly go by their Latin name,
fratres.

22 VOCATION

to have been no premonitory symptoms in my youthful
conduct of the scandal of my later years.

The " vocations " of most of my fellow-students,
and of my students in later years, had a similar origin.
They had either lived in the vicinity of a Francis'can
convent, or their parish had been visited by Franciscan
missionaries. Already troubled with a vague desire
for a sacerdotal career, the picturesque brown robe, the
eventful life, and the commanding influence of the
missionary had completed their vision. They felt a
'' vocation " to the Order of St. Francis ; their parents,
if they were at all unwilling, were too religious to
resist; the missionary was informed (after an unsuc-
cessful struggle on the part of the parish priest to get
the boy for the diocesan seminary), and the boy of
thirteen or fourteen was admitted to the monastic
college.

Other religious orders are recruited, as a rule, in the
same way. The more important bodies— the Jesuits,
Benedictines, and Dominicans — have more reliable
sources of supply in their large public schools at Stony-
hurst, Douai, and Downside. In those institutions the
thoughts of the more promising pupils can easily be
directed into the higher channels of religious aspiration
by the zealous monks, without any undue influence
whatever. But the minor congregations are sorely
pressed for recruits ; many of them, indeed, were glad
to accept the very small fish that ran through even
the net of the Franciscans. Ireland furnishes most of
the recruits to the English orders and clergy.

Missionaries are the principal recruiting sergeants.
Besides holding his " revival exercises " for the good
of souls, the missionary has the task of procuring

VOCATION 23

funds and novices for his monastery; and in propor-
tion to his success in this will be his superior's thought-
fuhiess in appointing him to the more comfortable
missions. For the modern missionary is not so insens-
ible to the charms of hospitality as his mediaeval
forerunner was.

The ranks of the secular clergy are recruited in the
same way. Large numbers of boys, usually of the
middle and poorer classes, are drafted annually into
the preparatory seminaries, to be preserved jealously
in their vocation if they have one, or inspired with
one if they have not. Parents and parish priests are
continually on the watch for symptoms of the divine
call, and in the case of clever, quiet boys the desire
is tactfully created.

Finally, a word must be said here of the vocation
of nuns; more will be said of them in the following
chapter. It is true that the proportion of women
who take the veil in maturer years is much larger
than that of men. Whatever may be their ultimate
attitude, it must be admitted that there is a large
amount of earnestness and religious sincerity in the
vocations of women. Still the number of young girls
who are received into nunneries is lamentably high,
and the anxiety shown by nun-teachers to inspire
their pupils with a " vocation " is extremely deplor-
able. They frequently request priests to secure
aspirants for their congregations, and many a priest
is tempted, out of desire to find favour at the con-
vent (an important social distinction), to welcome
the first word that his girl-penitents breathe in the
confessional about a religious vocation. Many priests
develop quite a mania for sending their penitents to

24 VOCATION

convents. For myself, in my hours of deepest faith
I never found courage to send a girl to a nunnery.
One girl, a penitent of mine, often solicited me about
her vocation. I am thankful to say that I restrained
her, and that no heart is, owing to my action, wearing
itself out to-day in the dreary institutions which wj
know as nunneries. It is a fiction of the Catholic
novelist that most nuns are happy in the life they have
chosen.

A conspicuous advantage of this system (from the
ecclesiastical point of view) is that it affords time for
a more extensive and systematic training. If other
Christian sects prefer the more honourable course of
not extending any ecclesiastical sanction whatever to
aspirants until they arrive at a dehberative age, they
must and do suffer in consequence in the training
of their ministry. The divinity lectures which the
Anglicans follow are but a feeble substitute for the
specialised education which their grave responsibility
as reUgious teachers obviously demands; and in a
large proportion of cases the theological training of
Anglican curates begins and ends with such lectures.
In later years, when contact with earnest readers
impresses them with a due sense of their position, they
Ere not infrequently heard to desiderate the systematic
training of their Romanist rivals. No doubt in point
of general culture they are much superior to the
average priest ; one can often recognise the priest who
has entered the sanctuary in a maturer age, after seces-
sion from Anglicanism, by that impalpable culture
which is the characteristic gift of tfie university.

How it happens that the Catholic educational system
produces such inferior results will appear subsequently ;

VOCATION 25

in theory it is admirably constructed for the attain-
ment of the ecclesiastical aim. Instead of merely
adding to an ordinary liberal education a few lectures
on current theological controversies, it takes the boy
of thirteen or fourteen and arranges his whole curri-
culum up to the age of twenty-four with a direct
relation to his sacerdotal ministry. The course of
training thus extends over a period of ten or eleven
years under direct ecclesiastical control. The boy is
handed over by his parents and transferred to the
seminary, or to a preparatory college in connection
with it, where his education is at once undertaken
by clerics. All the larger dioceses have their own
seminaries, and each monastic body has its colleges.

The scheme of education is divided broadly, accord-
ing to universal ecclesiastical usage, into three sections.
The preliminary training consists of the usual course
of classics and mathematics; the classics being more
than usually expurgated, and the whole training gener-
ously provided with spiritual and ascetical exercises.
This stage extends over a period of five or six years on
the average. To the " humanities " succeeds a course
of scholastic philosophy, which usually occupies two
years, and which now usually includes a few carefully
expurgated and commentated lessons on physical
science. Finally the student is treated to a three
years' course of theology, passes a severe examination,
and is admitted to ordination. The various stages
will be described more in detail as the writer passed
through tliem.

Such is the scheme of education of the Catholic
priesthood all the world over, with but few local
variations. The mendicant orders and the minor

26 VOCATION

congregations generally corrupt and mutilate it : the
larger seminaries and the more important orders
expand it. The Jesuits have the longest and fullest
curriculum, and their educational scheme has the
highest reputation. In reality the curriculum of the
Jesuit student is protracted mainly because he has
to spend long periods in teaching, during which his
own studies are materially impeded. Although the
Jesuits have the finest Catholic schools to draw pupils
from, and the longest curriculum of clerical training,
it will hardly be contended that, as a body, they
show any marked superiority over their less-dreaded
colleagues, either in literature or pulpit oratory.

The Benedictines and Dominicans also conduct their
preliminary studies in a creditable manner in their
well-known colleges, but most of the other religious
bodies are extremely negligent in that stage of clerical
education. Each religious order is responsible for the
training of its own candidates. The religious orders
— the regular or monastic clergy as opposed to the
secular — do not fall directly under the jurisdiction
of the bishop of the diocese. Monks are irregular
auxiliaries of the ecclesiastical army, and are supposed
to emerge occasionally fi-om their mountain fastnesses
to assist in the holy warfare. The monasteries of the
same order in each land are grouped into a province,
and the central authority, the provincial, exercises a
quasi-episcopal jurisdiction over them. All the pro-
vinces are united under a common general at Rome;
and there is a special congregation of cardinals at
Home to regulate the conflicts (not infrequent) of
bishops and the monastic clergy. Hence monks have
but few points of contact with episcopal authority.

VOCATION 27

and indeed they are usually regarded with jealous
suspicion by the bishop and the secular clergy. Car-
dinal Manning was known to cherish a profound anti-
pathy to all religious orders except the Franciscan,
and to the Franciscans he said, with characteristic
candour : " I like you — where you are (in East
London)." Indeed, nearly throughout England the
monastic orders have been compelled to undertake
parochial duties like the ordinary clergy.

However, the comparative independence of tlie
monastic orders gives them an opportunity of modify-
ing the scheme of education according to the pressure
of circumstances, and the general result is extremely
unsatisfactory. The low ideal of sacerdotal education
which they usually cherish is largely explained by the
strong foreign element pervading, if not dominating,
them. They have been founded, at no very remote
date, by foreigners (by Belgians in England, and by
Germans and Italians in the States), and are still
frequently reinforced from the Continent. And it
will be conceded at once that the continental priest
(or even the Irish priest) does not attach a very grave
importance to tlie necessity of culture. A priest has
definite functions assigned him by the Church, and
for their due fulfilment he needs a moderate acquaint-
ance with liturgy, casuistry, and dogma; beyond these
all is a matter of taste. Relying, in Catholic countries,
ui)on the dogmatic idea, and the instinctive reverence
which his parishioners have for the priesthood, he does
not concern himself about any further means of con-
ciliating and impressing them. The consequence is
that a low standard of education is accepted, and those
who have imported it into English-speaking countries

28 VOCATION

have not fully appreciated their new environment —
have not realised that here a clergyman is expected to
be a gentleman of culture and refinement. The effect
is most clearly seen in a wanton neglect of classics.
The Franciscan regime, at the time I made its
acquaintance, may serve as an instance.

The preparatory college of the Grey Friars (for they
retain the name in spite of the fact that they now
wear the brown robe of their Belgian cousins) was, at
that time, part of their large monastery at Manchester.
Seraphic Colleges, as the Franciscan colleges are
called (because St. Francis is currently named the
" Seraphic " Saint), are a recent innovation on their
scheme of studies, on account of the falling-off of
vocations amongst more advanced students. The
college was not a grave burden on the time and
resources of the friars at that period. One of their
number, an estimable and energetic priest, whose only
defect was his weakness in classics, was appointed to
conduct the classical studies and generally supervise
and instruct the few aspirants to the order who pre-
sented themselves. We numbered eight that year, and
it may be safely doubted whether there was an idler
and more mischievous set of coUegiates in the United
Kingdom. Our worthy professor knew little more
of boys than he did of girls, and he had numerous
engagements to fulfil in addition to his professorial
duties. The rector of the college, a delightfully obtuse
old Belgian friar, would have discharged his function
equally well if he had lived on Mars.

In spite, however, of the discouraging circumstances
we contrived to attain our object very rapidly. We
were all anxious to begin our monastic career in robe

VOCATION 29

and tonsure as soon as possible, and all that the order
required as a preliminary condition was a moderate
acquaintance with Latin — the language of the Liturgy.
Our professor, indeed, had a higher but imperfectly
grasped ideal. He added French and Greek to our
programme. Physics and mathematics were un-
thought-of luxuries, and our English was left at its
natural level, which was, in most cases, a rich and
substantial Irish brogue; but at one time our pro-
fessor began to give us a course of Hebrew, learning
the day's lesson himself on the previous evening.
Still, taking advantage of the fact that I studied at
my own home, I was enabled to present a list of
conquests at the end of the year which at once secured
my admission to the monastic garb. The list will
serve to illustrate further our educational proceedings :
it comprised, (1) French grammar and a little French
literature (such as Fenelon's Telemaque) ; (2) Greek
grammar, St. John's Gospel, one book of Xenophon,
and a few pages of the Iliad — crammed for the
purpose of disconcerting the monastic examiner ; (3)
Latin grammar, several lives from Nepos, two books
of Caesar, six orations of Cicero, the Catilina of Sallust,
the Gemiania of Tacitus, the Ars Poetica of Horace,
two books of Livy, two books of the ^neid, and
fragments of Ovid, Terence, and Curtius. As I
remained at the college only from June 1884 until
the following May, it will be seen how much private
care and exertion were required in later years to correct
the crudity of such an education.

The kindliness of my first j)rofessor and of most of
my later teachers will ever be remembered by me.
I was treated always as the favourite pupil. Yet this

so VOCATION

description of the only training which the Roman
Church gave me, apart from a theological equipment
which is now useless, will suffice to answer the ridicu-
lous and frequent statement that I owe my knowledge
of languages, science, and history to that Church.
Such as that knowledge is, it represents thirty years
of intense personal labour. Even of Latin only an
elementary knowledge is given by the Church. Very
few monks could read Vergil at sight.

Those were not the worst days of our Seraphic
College. Our professor was an earnest and hard-
working priest, though an indifferent scholar, an un-
skilful teacher, and burdened with many tasks. But
the time came when even less discretion was exercised ;
and not only were studies neglected, but the youthful
aspirants to the monastic life, living in a monastery,
had more licence than they would have had in any
college in England. The system is somewhat better
to-day. I was myself entrusted with the task of recon-
structing it ten years later. But I pass on to my first
acquaintance with the inner working of monastic life.

CHAPTER III

NOVITIATE

The novitiate is an episode in the training of tlie
monastic, not of the secular, clergy : it is a period of
probation imposed upon all aspirants to the monastic
life. Religious of every order and congregation,^ both
men and women, must spend at least one year as
" novices " before they are permitted to bind them-
selves by the solemnity of the vows. During that
period tliey experience the full severity and asceticism
of the life to which they aspire, and they are minutely
observed and tested by their superiors. It is a wise
provision : the least that can be done to palliate the
gravity of taking such an irrevocable step. Since no
formal study is permitted during its course, it causes
an interruption of the " humanities " of the monastic
clerics.

In the original intention of the founders of the
monastic orders there was no distinction between cleric
and lay members. Francis of Assisi, who was not a
priest himself, simply drew up a rule of life, a modified

' A congregation is a monastic institution of less importance and
antiquity than an oi-der. Tlie members of both arc commonly
called "religious," in the subatjvntivo sense. Monastic priests arc
further known as "regular" clergy (because they live under a
"rule"), while the scattered, ordinary priests, who live "in the
world" (saeailum), are known as the "secular" clergy.

31

32 NOVITIATE

version of his own extraordinary life, and allowed his
followers, after due probation, to bind themselves by
vow to its fulfilment. In it he naively prosciibes
study : " Let those who know not letters not seek to
learn them." However, although a divine inspiration
is claimed for him in his first composition of the rule,
he soon recognised the necessity of a different treat-
ment of his clerical brethren ; Antony of Padua was
appointed by him " to teach theology to the brethren."
He had not been many years in his grave — his pre-
mature death was not unassisted by his grief at the
growing corruption of his order (the saintly Antony
of Padua having already been publicly flogged in the
convent of Aracaeli at Rome for his dogged resistance
to the corruptors) — when the intellectual fever of the
thirteenth century completely mastered the fraternity,
and friars were to be found in hundreds at all the great
universities, even in the professorial chairs at Oxford,
Paris, and Cologne. Gradually the lay-brothers became
the mere servants of the priests ; and the studies of
the clerics were duly organised.

At that time and until the present century the
neophytes were men of a more advanced age. After
twelve months of trial, prayer, and reflection, they
were permitted to make their vows or " profession,"
from which there was no dispensation. In recent
years, however, the practice of receiving aspirants at
an earlier age has developed so rapidly that one feels
apprehensive of a revival of the old Benedictine custom
of accepting children of tender years, whose parents
were resolved that they should be monks, for financial
or political reasons. Pius IX. made an important
change in this direction. " Attenta raritate vocationum

NOVITIATE 33

— seeing the fewness of vocations," as he frankly
confessed, he decreed that there should be two sets of
vows. It would be too serious an outrage on human
nature to allow boys of sixteen to contract an utterly
irrevocable ^ obligation of so grave a character ; at the
same time it was clearly imperative to secure boys at
that age if the religious orders were not to die of
inanition. So a compromise was effected. Boys should
be admitted to the monastic life at the age of fifteen
for their novitiate, and should make what are called
*' simple " vows at the age of sixteen. From the
simple vows the Pope was prepared to grant a dis-
pensation : and the General of the order could annul
them (on the part of the order) if the neophyte turned
out unsatisfactory. The "solemn" or indispensable
vows would be taken at nineteen, leaving three years
as a kind of secondary novitiate.

Thus the criticism of the enemies of monasticism
was thought to be averted, and at the same time
boys were practically secured at an early age; for
it will be readily imagined that few boys would care
to make an application to Rome for a dispensation
and return to disturb the peaceful content of their
families— having, moreover, had twelve months' pro-
bation besides two or three years in a monastic
college. In justice to the monks I must add that I
have never known a case in which difficulties have been
put in the way of one who desired a dispensation :
certainly the accusation of physical detention in

1 ;i^he Pope claims to have the power to dissolve solemn vows
but in point of fact they are practically insoluble. There is only
one clear case on record where the power has been used • needless
to say It was in favour of a member of a wealtliy royal house
winch was threatened with extinction. '

34 NOVITIATE

monasteries or convents is without foundation in my
experience. If the student was promising, their advice
to him to reconsider his position would, no doubt, take
a very urgent and solemn character; if he persisted,
I feel sure they would conscientiously procure his
dispensation. However, in my personal experience I
have only known one instance; the youth had entered
under the influence of relatives and endured the strain
for two years, but he Avisely revolted at length, sought
a dispensation, and took to the stage.

It is thus explained how the monastic career usually
commences at such an early age. A visitor to the
novitiate of any order (a privilege which is rarely
granted) cannot fail to notice the extreme youth of
most of those who are engaged in weighing the
tremendous problem of an irrevocable choice. They
have, as a rule, entered the preliminary college at the
age of thirteen, and have been called upon to come
to a decision, fraught with such momentous con-
sequences, at the age of fifteen or sixteen.

The novitiate, as the convent is called in which the
novices are trained, is normally a distinct and secluded
monastery; but economy of space frequently compels
the monks merely to devote the wing of some existing
monastery to the purpose. In either case the regula-
tions for its complete isolation are very severe. The
novices are not allowed to leave the monastery under
any pretext whatever, and they are permitted to
receive but few visitors, and to have little correspond-
ence (which is carefully examined) with the outside
world. The comparison of monastic and secular life
is conspicuously one-sided.

For the novitiate of the Franciscan Order at that

NOVITIATE 35

time a portion of their friary ^ at Killarney had been
set aside. The three enterprising Belgian friars who
invaded England forty or fifty years ago found them-
selves presently compelled to carry their tent to the
more hospitable sister-isle. At Killarney their presence
led to scenes of enthusiasm that take one back to the
Middle Ages. The peasantry flew to their assistance,
and before long they erected the plain but substantial
building which catches the eye of the tourist on
, issuing from the station. The friary enjoyed an
uninterrupted prosperity from the date of its founda-
tion, with the usual consequence that its inner life
soon became much more notable for comfort than for
asceticism. However, one or two small scandals, the
advent of a hostile bishop, the impoverishment of the
country, and frequent visits from higher authorities,
brought about a curtailment of the friars' amenities.
And when the place was chosen as convent of the
novitiate, the good friars put their house in order,
tightened their girdles, and resigned themselves to a
more or less regular discipline; for one of their
most sacred principles is that novices must not be
scandalised.

The first emotion which the place inspired in me
when I entered it at the end of May 1885 was one
of profound melancholy and discontent. It had a
large and well-cultivated garden, and before us daily
was the lovely and changeful panorama of the hills.
But the interior of the monastery, with its chill,
gloomy cloisters, its solciiin and silent inmates, gave
me a deep impression of solitude and isolation. When

^ A house of friars may with equal propriety he called a friury,
monastery, or convent.

36 NOVITIATE

we sat down to supper at the bare wooden tables on
the evening of our arrival — my first community-meal
— widely separated from each other, eating in profound
silence, and with a most depressing gravity, I felt that
my monastic career would be a short one. A young
friend had entered their novitiate the previous year,
and had ignominiously taken flight two days after his
arrival ; I found myself warmly sj^mpathising with
him.

However, since we were not to receive the monastic
garb for a week or more, we were allowed a good deal
of liberty, and my depression gradually wore off. It
happened, too, that I was already acquainted with
three of the friars, and soon became attached to the
community. The first friar whom we had met, a
lay-brother, rather increased our ti-ouble ; he was
already far advanced in religious mania and ascetical
consumption, and did, in fact, die a year afterwards
in the local asylum. The second we met, also a lay-
brother, did not help to remove the unfavourable
impression. His jovial and effusive disposition only
accentuated his curious deformity of structure; his
hands and bare toes diverged conspicuously from the
central axis, one shoulder was much higher than its
fellow, his nose was a pronounced specimen of the
Socratic type, and a touch of rheumatism imparted a
shuffling gait to the entire composition. Happily we
found that the teratological department of the convent
ended with these two.

Our novice-master, or " Instructor," at that time
was an excellent and much esteemed friar of six-and-
twenty years ; we were soon convinced of his kindness,
consideration, and religious sincerity, and accepted

NOVITIATE 37

willingly the intimate relations with him in which our
position placed us. The superior of the monastery
likewise had no difficulty in securing our esteem. He
was a kindly, generous, and upright man, but without
a touch of asceticism. Tall and very stout, ^ith dark
twinkling eyes and full features, he was a real " Friar
of Orders Grey " of the good old times. He was a
Belgian, but he had attained wl^'e popularity in Kerry
by acquiring a good Flemish parody of an Irish brogue,
and constructing a genealogical tree in which some
safely remote ancestor was shown to be Irish. His
ideal of life was not heroic, but he acted up to it con-
scientiously; he was genuinely pious in church,
fulminatory in jjulpit and confessional, kind and fami-
liar with the poor and sick, generous and a moderate
disciplinarian in his convent.

A few lay-brothers and four other priests made up
the rest of the community. There was a cultured and
refined young friar, who, after a few years of perverse
misunderstanding and petty persecution from his
brethren, took to drink, and was happily rescued from
his position by the hand of death. A second, a tail,
eccentric friar, ultimately became a stumbling-block
to his fraternity and was expelled for drunkenness;
another, a little, stout Lancaslureman, of earnest and
blameless life, and of a deeply immane and aifectionate
disposition, fell a victim a year later to typhus. Lastly,
there was a little, round, rubicund Irishman of enthu-
siastic, unreasoning piety ; kind, ascetical, hard-work-
ing, studious (he studied everything except religious
evidences), he was a greatly rcsi)ected figure in Irish
missionary circles. The one rule lie confided to young
missionaries was : ** Throw the fire of hell at them ""
c '

38 NOVITIATE

and with his own stentorian voice (though he told you
he was consumptive, and that one lung had already
decayed) he threw it with prodigious effect amongst

the peasantry. , , j .1

A few days afterwards we were duly clothed witli
the monastic garb. The "clothing" has developed
into an impressive reUgious ceremony, and as there
were six of us (of whom four were under the age of
sixteen) to be clothed on this occasion, and it was the
inauguration of a new novitiate, the event was cele-
brated with much solemnity. The six tunics (" habits,"
as they are called) of rough brown frieze, with their
knotted cords, were blessed and sprinkled with holy
water during the mass, and we were solemnly enrobed
with the consecrated garments amidst much prayer and
psalm-singing, and the audible groans of the peasantry.
Our heads had been shaven in advance, leaving a
bald uncomfortable patch on the vertex about the
size of a cheese plate, a symbol, it is said, of the crown
of thorns of Christ's passion. The brown tunic is
also symbolical of the passion, for it is made in the
form of a cross, the body being of the same width
from neck to foot, and the wide sleeves branching
out at right angles. However, the symbohsm is an
outgrowth of more modern piety. Francis of Assisi
made no fantastic choice of a costume. Casting aside
his rich garments at his conversion, he merely adopted
the costume of the Italian beggar of his time— a rough
tunic and hood, girded Avith a knotted cord, and
sandals to his feet. The habit which excites so much
comment on the modern friar is thus merely an Italian
beggar's costume of the thirteenth century; substan-
tially, at least, for it too has fallen under the law of

NOVITIATE 39

evolution. In fact, the point of vital importance on
which the two great branches of the Franciscan Order ^
diverge is the sartorial question, What was the original
form of the habit of St. Francis ? The Capuchins hold
that his hood (or " capuce ") was long and pointed,
and that he had a beard ; their rivals — the Observantes,
Recollecti, and Reformati — dissent, and their age-long
and unfraternal strife on the subject became as fierce
and alarming as the historical controversy of the
Dominicans and Jesuits of the sixteenth century on the
nature of grace. The Roman authorities had to inter-
vene and stop the flow of literature and untheological
language by declaring all further publications on the
subject to be on the Index Expurfratorius.

The costume is still uncomfortable and insanitary.
In summer the heavy robe and the rough woollen
underclothing are intolerable; in winter the looseness
and width of the tunic promote ventilation to an un-
desirable extent ; and sandals, with all respect to Mr.
Edward Carpenter, are neither healthy nor delectable.
The rule prescribes that the costume consist of " two
tunics, a hood, a girdle, and drawers," but in England
and America the inner tunic is interpreted to mean
an ordinary woollen shirt; on the Continent it is a
second tight-fitting tunic of the same brown material.
A mantle of the same colour is usually worn out of
doors, and is considered part of the costume during
the winter.

The name of the novice is changed when he enters
the monastery, as a sign that he is henceforth dead
to the world. The surname is entirely dropped, and

* Since united under a common General. Second edition.
C 2

40 NOVITIATE

the Christian name is changed into that of some saint
of the order, who is adopted as patron ; thus my own
name was changed into Antony. We were now, there-
fore, fully fledged friars — of the mature age of fifteen
— and we entered at once upon the dull routine of the
monastic life. The character of the life will be best
understood by a detailed description of an ordinary
monastic day.

At a quarter to five every morning one of the friars
was awakened by his alarm-clock, and proceeded at
once to rouse the community. We novices, having
the eye of our instructor constantly upon us, shot out
of our rooms with proper despatch, but in most cases
the procedure was not so simple. There were friars
of all stages of somnolency. Some, of nervous tem-
perament, heard the alarm themselves, and perhaps
rushed upstairs for a cold bath (a luxury admitted in
the degenerate friaries of England and the States) ;
the majority were aroused by a vigorous tap of the
wooden hammer at their door, accompanied by the
pious salutation, " Laudetur Jesus Christus," to which
they sleepily responded " Amen " (or made some other
pious or facetious observation); some slept so pro-
foundly that the knocker-up had to enter their rooms
and shake them violently every morning. On one
occasion a young friar was carried out on his mattress
in profound sleep by his fellow-students and laid in
the middle of the busy corridor. When the round
was completed (all the bedrooms opening into a wide
central corridor, in accordance with the ever-M atclif ul
constitutions), the large bell sent a deafening clangour
through the dormitories, and we quickly prepared
for chapel.

NOVITIATE 41

A quarter of an hour was allowed for the purpose,
but, as our toilet was extremely simple, most of the
friars who had got beyond the stage of " primitive
innocence " continued their slumbers for five or ten
minutes. We were ordered by the constitutions to
retain all our underclothing during the night, so there
was nothing to do but throw on the rough brown robe
and gird it with the knotted cord. Then, towel in
hand, we raced to our common lavatory, for our simple
cells of twelve feet square were not encumbered with
washstands and toilet tables. In the lavatory a long
narrow zinc trough, with a few metal basins and a
row of taps overhead, was provided for our ablutions.
I afterwards discovered that, crude as it was, this
arrangement was rather luxurious for a friary.

At the end of the quarter the bell rang out its
second warning, and all were supposed to be kneeling
in their stalls in the choir by that time. The supe^
rior's eye wandered over the room to see if all were
present, and any unfortunate sleeper was at once sum-
moned, and would have to do public penance for his
fault at dinner. At five the religious exercises began,
and they continued, with half-an-hour's interval, until
eight o'clock.

The ancient monastic custom of rising at midnight
for the purpose of chanting the " Office " finds little
favour with modern monks; and, even from a religious
point of view, they are wise. I was enabled to make
observations on the custom some years later on the
Continent, and I found little ground for that enlhu-
siasm which Roman (Jathohc writers (usually lliose
who liave never tried it) frequently express. A few
devotees enter into the service with their usual fer-

42 NOVITIATE

vour ; but the vast majority, to whom a reUgious con-
centration of thought during an hour's service is an
impossibiUty, even in their most lucid hours, are
fatally oppressed with sleep and weariness. In
summer they fall asleep in their stalls ; in winter the
night's repose is lost, and many constitutions are
ruined, by the hour or hour and a half spent in the
icy-cold chapel at midnight. There is very slender
ground for romantic admiration.

The " Office " which is thus chanted in choir is a
collection of Latin psalms, hymns, and readings from
Scripture, which every priest is bound to recite every
day. The monks chant it, or " psalmody " it, as they
say, in a monotone in their chapel at various hours
of the day; "Matins and Lauds," the principal
section, form the opening ceremony in the morning.
It lasts about an hour, and is followed by a half-hour
of silent meditation — a sad pitfall for the somnolent
at that early hour. During meditation the friars turn
away from each other and kneel in their stalls, with
their faces buried in their hands and their arms rest-
ing on the seat. A facetious London priest, who
had once endeavoured to pass through the novitiate of
a monastery, used to tell me that he was discharged
because he snored so loudly during meditation as to
disturb the slumbers of the elder brethren. Mass
followed, and then breakfast was taken in profound
silence. It was a simple meal, consisting only of
coffee (taken in bowls, and without sugar — except on
fast-days) and bread and butter ; during the meal a
few pages of the Imitation of Christ were read
aloud. After breakfast a further section of the Office
was chanted, and we were dismissed to arrange our

NOVITIATE 43

rooms; for every friar, even the highest superior, is
his own chambermaid.

Afterwards we were allowed a quarter of an hour
in the garden in strict silence, and then our semi-
religious studies and classes commenced. During the
novitiate profane study is prohibited (the perusal of
a Greek grammar one day brought on me as severe
a reprimand as if it had been a French novel), and
the time is occupied with religious exercises, of which
we had seven or eight hours daily, and the study of
our rule and constitutions, of ritual, and of ascetical
Uterature. At half-past eleven another section of the
Office was chanted, at twelve there was a second half-
hour of silent contemplation (an injudicious custom

St. Teresa rightly maintained that one cannot medi-
tate fasting), and at 12.30 the welcome dinner bell
was heard. Growling, rather than reciting, a De
Profundis for departed benefactors, we walked in
silent procession to the refectory, where, standing face
to face in two long rows down the room, we chanted
a long and curiously intonated grace.

Dinner was taken in strict silence. Two friars read
aloud, in Latin and English alternately, from Scripture
or some ascetical work, and the superior gave the
necessary signals with a small bell that hung before
him. There were no table-cloths, as monks 'are for-
bidden the use of linen, but our pine tables were as
smooth as marble and scrupulously clean. The friars
only sit on one side of the table, on benches fixed into
the wall, so that the long narrow tables run round
tlie sides of the room. The dinner itself was frugal
but substantial enough; it usually consisted of soup,
two courses of meat and two vegetables, and fruit,

44 NOVITIATE

with a pint of beer to each friar. A pint is the con-
stitutional potion, but we juniors were, after grave
deUberation, allowed to have a smaller mug as a con-
cession to English sobriety. Many of us had hardly
reached the age of strong drink, but we were forced
to take our two mugs daily, at dinner and supper,
with the rest. In Belgian and German friaries there
is an amusing intrigue constantly going on for securing
the larger mugs, and there even the youngest novices
must drink at least three pints of beer a day.

After dinner tongues were loosened at last, and
recreation permitted until 2.30. There is a curious
custom for two of the friars (a priest and a student) to
wash the dishes after dinner. A large tank of hot
water containing the dishes is suitably mounted in
the kitchen, and the two friars, armed with cloths tied
to the end of sticks, hurry through their task, chanting
meanwhile alternate verses of the Miserere in Latin,
freely interspersed with comments on the temperature
of the wat^r. From this custom, too, the element of
spiritual romance has departed. Every Friday evening,
when the offices of the ensuing week are distributed
at supper, and announced in Latin by the reader, it is

still prescribed that *' Pater A et Frater B

lavabunt scutellas," but the ceremony has not a particle
of the spiritual force it had in the days when the papal
legates, bringing the cardinal's hat to the great St.
Bonaventure, found him so employed, and were told to
hang the hat on the bushes until he had finished.

Recreation is, in all monasteries, an incurably dull
affair. It generally consists of a walk round the
garden, while the friars indulge in light banter or
ponderous discussions of theology. We were allowed

NOVITIATE 45

cricket at the beginning of our monastic career, but
it was presently vetoed by a foreign authority on the
ground that it was contrary to religious modesty.
Hand-ball was played by the students, and at one
place an ineffectual attempt was made to introduce
tennis. The lay-brothers and the priests played
dominoes or skittles; but the three castes — priests,
students, and lay-brothers — are forbidden to inter-
mingle, or even to speak to each other -without neces-
sity. Cards are strictly forbidden in the monastic con-
stitutions ; bagatelle was popular, and billiards not
unknown ; and I have known the priests of a London
monastery to occupy their recreation with marbles for
many months. It was strangely impressive to hear
such problems as Predestination or Neo-Malthusianism
discussed over a game of marbles.

At 2.30 the bell summoned us to choir for Vespers,
the last section of the Office, and shortly afterwards
tea was announced. Nothing was eaten, but each
friar received a large bowl of tea; many of the older
friars took a second pint of beer instead, for tea was
a comparatively recent innovation. The Belgian friars
and the early English missionaries always take beer.
Silence was not enforced during the quarter of an hour
which is allowed for tea, but at its termination the
strictest silence was supposed to be observed until
recreation on the following day. In point of fact,
however, the law of monastic silence is only observed
with any degree of fidelity by novices and students,
and by these only so long as the superior is within
earshot. " Charity," they would plead in justifica-
tion, " is tiie greatest of all commandments."

After an hour of prayer and spiritual reading we

46 NOVITIATE

continued our pious studies until 6.30, when a third
half-hour of silent contemplation had to be accom-
plished. It was pitiful, sometimes, to see young
students endeavouring to keep their attention fixed
upon the abstract doctrines of Christianity for so long
a time— to see them nervously tightening their lips
against the assaults of the evil one. For our monastic
literature, never entertaining for a moment the idea
that such a performance was beyond the powers of
the average individual, taught us to see in spirit
myriads of ugly little demons, with pointed ears and
forked tails, sitting on our shoulders and on the arms
of our stalls, and filling our minds with irrelevant
thoughts. In fact, our worthy novice-master (and a
number of reputable authors) assured us that these
imps had been seen on more than one occasion by
particularly pious elder brethren ; that on one dread
occasion, happily long ago, a full-sized demon had
entered the choir with a basket and orthodox trident,
discovered a young friar who was distracted in his
prayers, and promptly disappeared with him in his
basket. To all of which we were obliged to listen
with perfect gravity, if we set any value upon our
sojourn in the monastery.

A series of mental devices, or " methods of medita-
tion," had been invented for the purpose of aiding
the mind to fix its gaze on the things of the spirit
without interruption. Unfortunately they were often
so complicated as to make confusion worse con-
founded. The method which our instructor selected
for us was quite an elaborate treatise in itself. I
remember one of our novices confiding to me the
trouble it occasioned him. The method was, of course,

NOVITIATE 47

merely an abstract form of thought to be filled in with
the subject one chose to meditate about. But my
comrade, a clever ex-solicitor, had by some incompre-
hensible confusion actually mistaken it for the subject
of meditation, and complained that the bell usually
rang before he had got through the scheme, and that
he had no time left to consider the particular virtue
or vice he had wished to meditate upon. On the
whole, it will be readily understood that of the seven
hours of prayer which were imposed upon us at that
period six at least were a sheer waste of time.

At seven we were summoned to supper — a simple
meal of eggs or cold meat, potatoes, and beer. After-
wards, on three evenings per week, we took the dis-
cipline, or self-scourging. Each friar repaired to his
cell for the purpose and flogged himself (at his OMn
discretion) across the shoulders with a knotted cord,
whilst the superior, kneeling in the middle of the
corridor, recited the Miserere aloud. Knowing that
our instructor used to listen at our doors during the
performance, we frequently gave him an exaggerated
impression of our fervour by religiously flogging the
desk or any other resonant surface. However, our
instruments of torture were guaranteed to be perfectly
harmless, even in the hands of a fanatic. I remember
how we hated a bloodthirsty little Portuguese friar,
who told us, with a suggestion of imitation, stories
of the way they took discipline in Portugal. But
before the end of the novitiate we had learned the
true value of the edifying tales with which visitors
invariably entertained the novices.

The remainder of the evening was spent in private
devotions or spiritual reading, and at 9.30 we were

48 NOVITIATE

obliged to retire. Straw mattresses and a few blankets
were our only bed-furniture ; and one wooden chair, a
plain desk, with half-a-dozen necessary books, com-
pleted the inventory of the cell. A small plaster
crucifix was the only decoration on the unwashed walls.
Our dormitory was cut off from the others by a special
partition which was locked every evening, for the
papal regulations for the isolation of novices were
very stringent. Our novice-master kept the key, and
even the superior of the monastery was not allowed
to enter our department except in the company of
one of the older friars.

That was the ordinary course of our lives through'
out the year of the novitiate, and indeed it had few
variations. Feast-days were the principal events we
looked forward to; in fact, it would be safe to say
that few boys would persevere in their condition if
the feast-days were abolished. A score of festivals
were indicated in the constitutions on which the
superior was directed to allow conversation at
dinner, and to give wine to the brethren : " half
a bottle to each " was the generous allowance of
the constitutions. In ordinary monasteries festivals
are much more frequent, and conversation is granted
at dinner on the slightest pretext. In the novitiate,
where a stricter discipline prevailed, we had usually
two or three every month, and on the more important
feasts the midday dinner assumed enormous propor-
tions. At Christmas the quantity of fowl and other
seasonable food which was sent in occupied our strenu-
ous attention during a full week ; in fact, all our
convents had the custom of celebrating the entire
octave of Christmas with full gastronomic honours.

NOVITIATE 49

So many friends conceived the happy idea of sending
a gift to the " poor friars " that the larder was
swollen with vast quantities of Christmas fare. I had
never tasted beer or wine before I entered the
monastery, but a little calculation shows that I must
(in my sixteenth year) have consumed fifty gallons
of ale and a dozen bottles of good wine during that
first year of monastic life.

The greatest event of the year, however, was the
patronal feast of the superior of the monastery. He
was a warm favourite in Killarney, and there were
enough comestibles (and potables) sent in to store a
small ship, the two neighbouring nunneries especially,
and a host of friends, vying with each other in the
profusion and excellence of gifts to honour his festival.
Even when a feast-day fell upon a fast-day, the
restriction in solids was usually compensated by a
greater generosity in fluids ; we young novices were
more than exhilarated on one or two occasions when
dinner had opened with a strong claret soup, had been
accompanied by the usual pint of beer and a glass of
sherry, and followed by two or three glasses of
excellent port — sometimes even champagne. Nor is
the restriction to fish felt very acutely in Killarney,
where the lakes yield magnificent salmon, and where,
by a most ingenious process of casuistic reasoning,
water-fowl are included under the heading of fish !

The monotony of the life was also relieved by the
occurrence of the fasts. Besides the ordinary fasts
of the Church, the friars observe several that are
peculiar to their rule of life, especially a long fast
from the fii'st of November until Christmas. How-
ever, there are now few who really fast — that is to

50 NOVITIATE

say, content themselves with one full meal per day —
even in monasteries; abstinence from flesh meat is the
usual limit of monastic mortification. On the Con-
tinent fasting, in the strict sense of the word, is
much more frequently practised in monasteries, but
it may be questioned if idleness is not too heavy a
price to pay for an observance which is discredited
by modern moralists of all schools. In England and
the States the monks, and clergy generally, more
wisely prefer industry to fasting, though it is regret-
table that they do not modify their professions in
accordance. The Passionists are the only English con-
gregation who cling to the practice with any fideUty,
and their statistics of premature mortality are a
sufficient commentary on the stupidity of the Italian
authorities who are responsible for it.^

Moreover, the " fasting " of modern times departs
not a little from the primitive model. I have seen
the " one full meal " which is allowed at midday
protracted until four o'clock; and a partial meal has
been introduced in the evening. Drink, of course,
does not break the fast, except strong soup, choco-
late, and a few other thick fluids, a list of which is
duly drawn up by casuists. Any amount of beer or
wine may be taken. And since it is, or may be,
injurious to drink much without eating, a certain
quantity of bread is allowed with the morning coffee;
at night (or in the morning if preferred), eight or ten
ounces of solid food arc permitted. The Franciscans

_ ' Since this was written I have met an ex-member of the Pas-
monist body, who laughingly assured me that my statement that
the Passionists were a.scetic was " the only serious mistake in my
book. " SecoTid edition.

NOVITIATE 51

are much reproved by rival schools of theologians for
their laxity in this regard, and the strained interpreta-
tion they put upon admitted principles. At one time a
caricature was brought out in Rome depicting a Fran-
ciscan friar complacently attacking a huge flagon of
ale and a generous allowance of bread and ^Jieese in
the middle of his fast. To the ale was attached the
sound theological aphorism, " Potus non frangit
jejunium — drink does not break the fast " ; the huge
chunk of bread was justified by the received principle,
" Ne potus noceat — in order that the drink may do
no harm " ; and the cheese was added in virtue of the
well-known saying, '' Parum pro nihilo reputatur —
a little counts as nothing."

Since there was no parish attached to the monastery
at Killarney (which is the correct canonical status of
a monastery), a few words must be said of the life
of the priests. At that time it was a hopeless mystery
to me, and it is ])rincipally from later observation and
information that I am able to describe it. That it was
far from being an industrious life will be understood ;
occasional visits to the sick poor and the rendering of
services to the secular clergy of the diocese con-
stituted the whole of their work outside. In our own
church there was only one sermon per week, and there
were six friars to share the work. Hence the greater
portion of the day was at the personal disposal of
the priests ; and, as manual labour was considered
beneath the sacerdotal dignity, and their crude educa-
tion had given them, with few exceptions, little or
no taste for study, they were always eager for dis-
tractions. They were frequently to be met rowing or
sailing on the lakes (always in their brown habits), or

52 NOVITIATE

driving on side-cars through the loveliest parts of
Kerry ; and in return the parish priests whom they
visited or assisted paid frequent visits to the friary
and helped the monks to fill up an idle hour with a
cigar and a glass of whisky. A few years later,
indeed, a large-minded superior of this friary con-
verted a conservatory that stood in the centre of the
garden into a cosy smoking-room.

In point of fact both whisky and tobacco were
forbidden m our constitutions, but I have never yet
seen a constitution in which a theologian could not
find a loophole and pass through it with unruffled
dignity. Our professor of theology used to tell a
genial story (against the casuist) of an old lady at
Glasgow who lost her purse, and prayed that it might
not fall into the hands of a theologian. The con-
viviahty of the priests, in our days, was confined to
a small room at a safe distance from our win- of
the house, but we frequently met one of the younger
priests moving stealthily along the corridor with the
neck of a bottle peeping out from his mantle, and
often, as we lay awake at midnight, we caught the
taint echo from the distant room of " Killarnev " or
The Dear Little Shamrock."

The penances, too, were an interesting feature of
the hfe, when observed in the case of one's com-
panions. The common form of public penance is to
kneel in the centre of the refectory during dinner
praymg silently with arms outstretched, until the
superior gives permission to rise. The next in point
of severity is to kneel without the hood, or with an
inscription stating one's crime, or with the fragments
of anything one has broken. For graver faults

NOVITIATE 53

especially of insubordination, a culprit is condemned
to eat his dinner on the floor in the centre, the
observed of all observers, for one or more days ; and
for an exaggerated offence his diet is restricted to
bread and water. Confinement to the monastery for
a long period, suspension from sacerdotal functions,
and, ultimately, expulsion from the order, are the
more grievous forms of punishment. Though monastic
constitutions still direct that each monastery must
have its " prison," I do not think that formal incar-
ceration is now practised in any part of the world.
Apart, however, from these penances the whole scheme
of discipline is crushing and degrading. For speaking
a word in time of silence a novice would be forced to
carry a stick in his mouth during recreation ; he would
be called upon at any time, for no fault whatever
(and generally just in pi'oportion as he Avas intelligent
and sensitive), to stand against the wall or in a corner
of the room and make a fool of himself in the most
idiotic fashion. Everything is done to expel the last
particle of what is commonly called self-respect, to
distort and pervert character according to a stupid
mediteval ideal, I remember once nearly bringing my
monastic career to a very early close by a transgression
of this supreme command of blind obedience. I had
been asked a question which would implicate a col-
league— in a trivial matter — and I refused out of a
sense of honour to reply. If I had not apologised
afterwards in a public and humiliating fashion I should
have been expelled at once.

Thus the twelve months passed monotonously, and
the time approached for us to take the " simple vows."
The votes of the community are taken every three

54 NOVITIATE

months on the merits of candidates for the order. The
community is assembled for the purpose in the chapter
room (a room in which the superior assembles his
rehgious three times a week for prayer, exhortation,
and public confession of their minor faults — breaking
utensils, oversleeping, &c.) and the superior invites a
discussion on the merits or demerits of the novice.
He then produces a bag of white and black marbles,
of which he gives a pair to each voter; they are
collected with great secrecy in two bags, and if the
novice does not obtain a majority of " white balls "
he is invited to abandon his intention. If it is probable
that he will be " blackballed," he is usually warned
in advance : hence it very rarely happens.

Our votes having been satisfactorily obtained we
prepared to make our religious profession at the com-
pletion of our year of probation. The profession, an
impressive religious ceremony, consists essentially of a
vow to observe the rule of St. Francis and to " live
in poverty, chastity,^ and obedience for the whole
time of our lives." When the morning arrived, a large
and sympathetic congregation had gathered in the
church, and the sight of the six young friars — mere
boys we all were — solemnly forswearing every earthly
desire moved them deeply. The purport of the vow
was explained to them in the exhortation given by
the superior, and they at least knew the extent of the
sacrifice we were making. We, too, were convinced

^ A vow of chastity embraces the obligation of celibacy and
much more : it doubles the guilt of any transgression of the virtue
of chastity or purity, which, in tlie theory of the Church of Rome,
is a very comprehensive piece of ethical legislation. Yet many
confessors encourage their girl-penitents, living in the world, to
make such a vow.

NOVITIATE 55

that we fully realised the gravity of the step ; as,
although our thoughts were taken up rather with the
glamour of the position we ultimately sought and the
advantages it offered, we were not in our way insens-
ible of the price we were asked to pay. But it was
many a long year before the act could be appreciated
— not until long after we had solemnly and irrevocably
ratified our vows.

What are the world and the flesh to a boy of
sixteen, or even to a youth of nineteen (at which age
the final, irrevocable step is taken), who has been
confined in an ecclesiastical institution from his
thirteenth year? He knows little more of the life
which he sacrifices so lightly with his vow of poverty
than he does of life on Mars ; and he is, when he
utters his vow of celibacy, entirely unacquainted with
the passion that will one day throb in every fibre of
his being, and transform the world beyond conception.
He has signed a blank cheque, on which nature may
one day write a fearful sum. Yet he is permitted, nay
persuaded, to make that blind sacrifice, and place
himself in lifelong antagonism to the deepest forces
of his being, before he can have the faintest idea of
his moral strength. If it be true that monastic life
is ever sinking into corruption, we should feel more
incHned to pity than to blame the monks.

The secular clergy make no vow of poverty or
obedience, and it may be urged that even their vow
of celibacy is more defensible. The seminary student
makes his vow when he is admitted to the sub-
diaconate, the first of the holy orders, and the
canonical and usual age of tlie subdcaoon is twenty-
one. The average youth of twenty-one may be

56 NOVITIATE

admitted to be capable, in ordinaiy circumstances,
of forming an opinion on such matters, but we must
remember that the ecclesiastical student has had an
abnormal training. Every precaution has been taken
to keep him in complete ignorance of sexual matters,
and to defer the development of that faculty of which
he is asked to make a lifelong sacrifice. He has never
come in contact with the other sex, for even during
his vacation the fear of scandal hangs like a millstone
about him ; he has never read a line concerning the
most elementary facts and forces of life — his classics,
his history, his very fiction, have been rigidly expur-
gated ; the weekly minute confession of his thoughts,
the incessant supervision of his superiors, the constant
presence of innumerable threats, have combined to
postpone the unfolding of his sex-Ufe until he shall
have bUndly abdicated it for ever. In the confessional
I have known students of a much more advanced age
who were still sexually undeveloped. In fact, the
Church knows that they are unconscious of sex, and
expects them to be unconscious ; for if she awaited the
full development of mind and body in her candidates
her clergy would never be sufficiently recruited as long
as she insists on celibacy.

The proportion of nuns who take the vow of chastity
at an early age is smaller, as I have said, but the sin
is more grievous. The life of the nun who finds in
later hfe that she has made a mistake is infinitely more
wretched. The priest is in the world and frequently
of it; the nun is jealously imprisoned in the walls of
her convent. No doubt, her vow is usually only a
" simple " vow and theoretically dispensable; but who
ever knew a nun to write to Rome for a dispensation?

NOVITIATE 57

No woman would dare to face the ignominy of such a
step. " Woe to him (or her) who draws back his hand
from the plough " is one of the most inculcated maxims
of the conventual life ; and the prospect of returning,
a failure, to one's family and friends is most for-
bidding.

I have never been able to witness without a shudder
the ceremony of a young girl making her vows. Some
comfortable monk or light-tongued Jesuit preaches to
her from the aUar of the tranquil joy of her future
life as spouse of Christ alone, and the candid virginal
eyes that are bent upon him tell only too clearly of
her profound ignorance of the sleeping fix'es within her,
the unkno\vn joys of love and maternity Avhich she
sacrifices so readily. In ten years more she will know
the meaning of the vow of chastity into which she has
been deluded. It was brougiit home to me vividly on
hearing one day the confession of a young nun who
was in the wild throes of passion-birth. After
enumerating the usual peccadilloes, she began to tell
me of her utter misery and isolation. Her sisters
were unkind, thoughtless, and jealous; "and yet,
father," she urged piteously, " I rfo want some one
to love me." I muttered the commonplaces of our
literature; but as she knelt at my feet, looking sadly
11 [) at me, in their little convent chapel, I felt how
dark a sin it was to admit an immature girl to a vow
of cliaslity. How their parents — their mothers — can
let them act thus, nay, can look on with smiles and
congratulations, surpasses my comprehension. We
read with shudders of the ancient Mexican sacrifices
of maidens, yet liundrcds of finc-natured girls are
amiually sacrificed on this perverse altar of chastity in

58 NOVITIATE

England. They send home no word of unhappiness,
it may be said. Do their parents not know that every
letter they write must be given, open, to a superior?
I doubt if France ever did a greater service to its
women than when it (though not entirely) closed tiieir
convents.

CHAPTER IV

STUDENTSHIP

After the novitiate liad been successfully accom-
plished it was necessary to resume the course of our
education. Owing to the total neglect of profane
study which is foolishly directed, most of the ground
we had already conquered was lost during the year
of the novitiate. Latin was sustained, even advanced
a step, since all our services and quasi-religious studies
had been in Latin ; although ecclesiastical Latin, and
especially the Latin of the Psalms, of which we heard
so much, would make the shade of Cicero shudder.
Whatever other acquisitions had been made such as
Greek and French were entirely lost. We had, there-
fore, to devote ourselves once more to " humanities,"
and for this purjiose we were transferred (without a
glimpse of the immortal lakes, for the friars had fallen
on evil days with the bishop) to what is now the
prin(ii)al house of studies of the Franciscans at Forest
Gale in I'.ast London.

The large and imposing pile of buildings which the
friars have to-day at Forest Gate is often quoted as
an illustration of the growth of Catholicism. Fifteen
years ago (1882) there was no Catholic congregation
in the locality ; only a do/en worshippers made their
way to the washhouse of the neighbouring nunnery,

59

60 STUDENTSHIP

when the friars first came to celebrate mass there.
When our party arrived three years afterwards the
congregation numbered 300 souls ; and when I left in
1896 the friars had erected property to the value of
about £25,000, and ministered to a congregation of
more than 3000 souls. As a matter of fact this was
only a symptom of the decentralisation that was going
on in London. There were few converts to Rome in
the new congregation, and these were merely the
flotsam and jetsam of superficial religious controversy
— good people Avho would save their souls in any
Chui'ch, or none. The great bulk of the parish were
the middle-class Catholics who had migrated from all
parts of East London to the new and healthier district,
in which the sagacious friars had erected a church,
mainly on borrowed funds. ^

The priest who was entrusted by the Belgian author-
ities with the supervision of our studies was Father
David, since Mmister-General of the entire Franciscan
Order, and erudite counsellor to the Holy Office. An
abler student than teacher — a distinction of which our
authorities never dreamed — and a man of many
interests, he contributed little more than the example
of his great industry and learning to our develop-
ment ; and most of us were very barren soil for that
seed. During the first six months no attempt was
made to organise our work. All our religious exer-
cises were hurried through early in the morning,
making more than three consecutive hours of prayers
of divers kinds ; as a rule we then had the monastery
to ourselves during the day. Once or twice a week,

^ One of their chief benefactors, Mgr. A. Wells, has since seceded
from the Church.

STUDENTSHIP 61

at any hour of the day or night, our professor would
interrupt the course of his ministerial and parochial
duties, and his studies of Sanscrit at the British
Museum, to give us a class in Latin. Even during
that half-hour he used to write letters, and we would
purposely make the most atrocious blunders, and con-
duct ourselves in the wildest manner our imagination
could suggest.

Our long Saturnalia came to an end at last with
the arrival of a second and younger professor, who
entered into the work of reform with alarming zeal.
He was fresh from the Belgian province, in which a
perfect discipline (from a mechanical point of view)
prevails in the houses of study. Young, intensely
earnest, and sincerely religious, he made an honest
effort to reform us without losing our sympathy, but,
as he knew little more of our studies than we did, and
had an uncontrollable temper and a conspicuous harsh-
ness of character, he alienated us more and more as
time went on. From Belgium, too, he had imported
the system of espionage, which is deservedly odious to
English students ; he considered that the necessary
rigour of monastic discipline justified it. However,
he never cared to be caught in the act, and we gave
him many an unpleasant quarter of an hour by rumiing
to the door of our study room when we saw his
shadow near it, and chasing him through the convent
in his anxiety not to be seen. At length we appealed
to authority, and effected his deposition and removal.
In later years I learned to esteem and respect him, and
he made rnpU] progress in the order and in the lyondon
ministry ; finally, however, he ended in an ignominious
flight with the contents of the fraternal cash-box.

62 STUDENTSHIP

His successor was a monk of a very different char-
acter. Far from continuing the rigour of his pre-
decessor, he became alarmingly liberal and familiar,
and before many months had elapsed we found it
impossible to retain a particle of respect for him. In
point of fact he already showed symptoms of mental
aberration, and a few years afterwards his conduct
became so extraordinary that absolute dementia is the
kindest interpretation of it. He, too, was removed
at our appeal, and we began to have an evil reputation.
During our five years of study at Forest Gate we
succeeded in removing no less than six professors and
superiors; and, since I was the "dean" of the
students throughout my course, I attracted an uncom-
plimentary interest. I have no doubt that my own
fall was frequently predicted many years in advance.

After twelve months at Latin we were initiated into
a course of rhetoric. The Jesuits more wisely post-
pone the rhetorical studies until the last year; in any
case, it is little more than a waste of time. Lessons
in elocution and declamation are clearly expedient,
and should be insisted upon much more conscientiously
than they are in the training of priests, but the usual
"course of rhetoric " is only learned to be forgotten.
It deals with the invention and distribution of argu-
ments, the analysis and composition of orations, the
various styles of discourse, figures of speech, and the
comparative play of ideas and emotions. There are
few who retain any knowledge of its multitudinous
rules when the period of practice arrives; fewer still
who pay the slightest attention to them. The only
useful element of the training is the practice of
making ecclesiastical students prepare and deliver

STUDENTSHIP 63

short sermons to their companions. In many
monasteries the students preach to the assembled com-
munity during dinner. It affords excellent training
for public speaking, for one who is able to speak with
any degree of self-possession to a small audience will
have little fear of a large congregation. I often
preached to a congregation of a thousand people with
the utmost composure, yet trembled before a con-
gregation of ten or twelve persons.

The course of rhetoric is succeeded by a course of
scholastic philosophy. In the great medieval schools
philosophy was taught in conjunction with theology,
but the rationalistic spirt, which had been so vigor-
ously expressed by Abelard, and the growing import-
ance of the Moorish thinkers, led gradually to the
separation of philosophy. By the sixteenth century,
when there was a notable revival of speculative
activity, the separation of philosophy from theology
was complete. In a rationalistic age like ours such
a separation is imperative. Before a positive revela-
tion can be entertained, certain preliminary truths,
especially the existence, nature, and authority of the
Revealer, must necessarily be established by pure reason-
ing ; in other words, philosophy must precede theology,
and this is now fully recognised by the Church.

The scholastic philosopliy which is now taught in
Catholic seminaries usually includes .treatises on logic,
metaphysics, and natural ethics. First is given a short
treatise on dialectics, which differs little from the
logic of Jevons or VVhateley, and is followed by a more
careful study of the second or material part of logic.
A treatise of general metaphysics follows, in whicli
are discussed, analysed, and vindicated the general

64 STUDENTSHIP

concepts and principles which will be used subse-
quently in the construction of the desired theses.
Special metaphysics is divided into three parts,
cosmology, psychology and natural theology. It
opens with a proof of the existence of the material
world, against the Idealists, and discusses its origin
and its features of time and space; then the question
of life is entered upon, its origin and nature discussed,
and the two great branches of the organic world are
philosophically described and commented upon. The
second part, psychology, is concerned with the human
soul ; it seeks to prove its spirituality and immortality,
against the Mater iahst, classifies and analyses its
various faculties, treats of the origin and nature of
thoughts, emotions, and voUtions. The third part
treats of God; it opens with the usual demonstration
of his existence, against the Agnostics, endeavours to
elucidate his attributes as far as mere reasoning will
avail (and the scholastic philosopher is persuaded that
it will avail much), and considers his relations to
this nether world.

The hne of reasoning throughout is taken closely
from Aristotle — or, as Renan would say, from a bad
Latin translation of an Arabic paraphrase of a Syriac
version of Aristotle. Until the time of Thomas
Aquinas, all Catholic philosophers (except Boetius) had
followed Plato, and regarded Aristotle with suspicion;
St. Thomas, however, and all the schoolmen, except
St. Bonaventure, rejected the Platonist method and
introduced Aristotle (through the Latin translations
of the Arabic school), expurgated his philosophy, and
enlarged it in certain directions in harmony with
Christian teaching. Thus the Neo-Scholastic philo-

STUDENTSHIP 65

sophy is fundamentally the philosophy of Aristotle
enlarged by allusions to modern problems and philo-
sophies, and usually enriched with a moderate acquaint-
ance with modern science. The Jesuits of Stoneyhurst
have published (in EngUsh) an excellent series of
manuals of the Neo-Scholastic philosophy at its best.

To logic and metaphysics is usually added a treatise
on natural ethics, which is founded on the Nicomachean
ethics. It deals with the abstract conceptions of right
and duty, virtue and vice, law and conscience; dis-
cusses the various current theories of moral obligation ;
and expounds and enforces the various duties which
arise from the relations of individual, social, and inter-
national life. Smce no appeal to revelation is admitted
in it, and in order to distinguish it from moral
theology (which covers the same ground in the light
of revelation and authority), the treatise goes by the
name of natural ethics.

Customary as it is to decry the scliolastic philo-
sophy, I would willingly subscribe to the generous
appreciation of it by Mill and Hamilton as a mental
discipline. Its chief defect is its narrow and arrogant
exclusivism. That the system is strongly and skil-
fully constructed is what one would expect from the
number of gifted minds that have contributed to it;
but almost every manual from which it is taught, and
nearly every professor, carefully excludes, or only gives
a most inaccurate version of, rival philosophies. The
impression made on t!ie student is that the scliolastic
system is so clearly and nnitiuely true that all oppo-
nents are either feeble-minded or dishonest; the latter
theory is only too often urged. When I afterwards
became professor of philosophy I made it my duty to

66 STUDENTSHIP

study more modern systems, and learned how petty
and antiquated the scholastic system is in comparison.
Even one who had taken a degree in it could hardly
read such writers as Lotze or Royce.

And, indeed, apart from the fact that all opponents
are on the Index ^ (in that they write " expressly
against the faith "), and that it would be a sacrilege
to entertain for a moment the possibility of their
being in the right, the time which is devoted to the
vast subject is wholly inadequate. Two years is the
usual duration of the course ; one year is very fre-
quently the limit of philosophical study. Then the
ages of the students must be taken into account.
They are generally youths of from eighteen to twenty-
one, who are quite incompetent to enter seriously into
such grave problems ; only one in a hundred makes
an attempt to do so. Sufficient information to satisfy
an examiner is committed to memory ; but, unless
the student is drawn to the science for a solution of
questions that have arisen in his own soul (which is
very rarely the case), he shirks philosophy as far as
possible, and looks forward eagerly to his deliverance
from it. Further, it is supposed to be taught through
the medium of a dead language, and most of the
professors in the seminaries have very little acquaint-
ance with modern science. They are also injudicious
in that, neglecting the problems of actual interest and
importance, they fritter away the allotted time in the

* The Index, or " list of prohibited books," is really a far more
extensive thing than the published list. Every work that is
regarded as "against the faith " (such as this) is prohibited to the
Catholic under pain of hell, although not expressly put on the list.
Hence the ease with which Catholic journals can misrepresent a
book. Their readers dare not read it.

STUDENTSHIP 67

most trivial controversies. The liberty of the will
or the existence of God will be dismissed in a day,
and a week will be zealously devoted to the question
whether substance and personality are two distinct
entities, or whether the qualities of a thing are
physically, formally, or mentally distinct from its
substance. In many seminaries a certain amount of
physical science is taught in conjunction with the
course of philosophy, but much jealousy is shown with
regard to it. I was much attracted to the empirical
sciences from the beginning, and, though not actually
impeded, I was much discouraged in that pursuit; I
was informed that the empirical sciences made the
mind " mechanical," and predisposed to materialism.
F. David, though not actually my professor, guided
my studies with great kindness throughout my course.
Although I fortunately broke loose from his influence
in some directions, and found that I had subsequently
to verify with care whatever I had accepted from
him, I was certainly much indebted to him for the
formation of iiabits of industry and precision.

The priest who was nominally entrusted with our
philosophical training is certainly not responsible for
the fatal depth to which I ultimately penetrated. One
of the few things he had not mastered was meta-
physics; he could paint and play, and he was an
authority on architecture, archaeology, rubrics, canon
law, and history. He was a Belgian friar of pro-
nounced eccentricity, and his method of teaching
philosophy was original. After each lesson he dictated
in Latin a number of questions and ausxvcrs, and on
the following morning the answers had to be repeated
word for word. Some of my fellow-students passed

68 STUDENTSHIP

a most satisfactory examination at the end of the
term without having a single idea on philosophical
questions. The worthy father was another victim of
our seditious movements, and his eccentricities enabled
us to make his life a serious burden. He, for instance,
hated meeting anybody on our broad staircases, and
we haunted the stairs. He lived mainly on hard toast,
and we at times stole some of it and scrunched it in
the most silent intervals of dinner, to the delight of
his colleagues.

The last three or four years of the student's career
are devoted to theology. Under that title are usually
comprised ecclesiastical history, canon law. Scripture,
and moral and dogmatic theology. Ecclesiastical
history, usually a very one-sided version of the vicissi-
tudes of the Church, does not, as a rule, occupy much
of the time. Canon law, a vast system of ecclesiastical
legislation, is either neglected or only given in a very
rudimentary fashion. Each order and diocese secures
one or two experts in the subject, who are appealed
to in case of complications, but the majority of the
clergy are content with the slight knowledge of canon
law which they necessarily glean from their moral
theology. The three years are, therefore, devoted to
Scripture and theology proper. In my course not a
single lesson of Canon I>aw was given.

With four lectures each week during a period of
two or three years it is impossible to study satisfac-
torily more than a comparatively small section of the
Scriptures. Certain books are selected, after a general
introduction, for detailed commentary, and the students
are supposed to study the exegetical method in order
to cover the rest of the ground at their leisure.

STUDENTSHIP 69

How far is the study of Scripture in the Church
of Rome affected by the Higher Criticism (and the
monuments)? Very profoundly, in point of fact,
though this modification of views can find no expres-
sion since the celebrated retrograde encychcal of Leo
XIII. Newman's contention, that there were obiter
dicta in Scripture which did not fall under the in-
spiring influence, introduced a far-reaching principle;
it was not necessary to hold that all was inspired.'
In face of the stem criticism of the RationaUsts many
liad begun to admit scientific and historical errors in
Scripture, and the famous French professor, M. Loisy,
went very far in comj^any with the critics. Then
came the Pope's encyclical, declaring that no errors
could be admitted in Scripture, and M. Loisy dis-
appeared from his chair (with, it is true, a most' suave
and courteous letter in his pocket, recognising his past
services, from the Pope). However, an encyclical only
affects the expressions, not the thoughts, of scholarly
Catholics. Leo XIII. has never once claimed to
exercise his infallible authority. His encyclicals enjoy
no more than his personal authority as a theologian,
and that is not serious. The bulk of the faithful are
iinjn-essed by his utterances, both on the ground of
their wisdom and under the erroneous impression that
they, according to Catholic theology, share to some
degree the prestige of his supernatural power. There
are no degrees in infallibihty. Catholic scholars are
waiting patiently until Cardinal Vanutelli, or some
broader-minded man, assumes the tiara.

In the meantime, on this Scriptural question, they
have^a refuge in the elasticity of the term " inspira-
tion." The advanced thinker may give it any inter-

D

70 STUDENTSHIP

pretation his views may require. A very able professor
of Scripture at Louvain University told me that his
own ideas on Scripture were absolutely chaotic on
account of this vagueness of the fundamental idea.
Another distinguished professor saw in it a Une of
dignified retreat for the Papacy when the time came.
What the commission which is now sitting on the
Biblical question at the Vatican may determine can-
not be conjectured. But the private opinion of the
leading spirit in that commission is not unknown to
me. " The truth is," I recollect Father David saying
to me, when Mr. Sayce's " Higher Criticism and the
Monuments " appeared, " the truth is that the Old
Testament was not written for us, and the sooner the
Church can quietly drop it overboard the better." ^

Moral theology has been detached from dogmatic
in the specialisation of studies, and forms a distinct
science of a purely practical nature. It opens with' a
few general treatises on moral responsibility, con-

1 When the first edition was written Leo XIII. had appointed a
commission of theologians, with my tutor, F. David, as secretary
to draw irp a series of gniding statements on the question ot
Scripture. It is plain that Leo XIII. had seen the error ol his
encyclical, and was disposed to be more liberal He is said to
have repeatedly muttered in his last hours : "The Biblical ques-
tion, the Biblical question. " Then came the accession of Pius X. ,
one of the most narrow-minded and medieval of the whole college
of cardinals. The rival partisans of Vanutelli and RampoUa
could come to no agreement, and a nonentity had to be admitted
to the tiara. Unfortunately, he proved as conscientious as he is
ioTiorant The Biblical Commission was swamped with reactionary
scholars, and one of the first pronouncements signed by my liberal
tutor was that the whole Pentateuch was certainly witten by
Moses ! Then began the gi-eat fight against the liberals^ or Modern-
ists Cultivated Catholics groan under the rule of Pius X., and
believe that he is ruining the Chiu-ch. It is a singular commentary
on the dogma of papal inspiration. Third edition.

STUDENTSHIP 71

science, law, and sin, which constitute what is called
fundamental theology. The special treatises which
follow discuss the obhgations of the moral agent in
every conceivable relation and circumstance. Each
treatise usually takes a particular virtue as its object,
and enumerates every possible transgression of the
same, discussing their comparative gravity, and fre-
quently giving practical rules to the confessor in deal-
ing with them. There is a treatise on impurity, which
gives the student the physiological elements of the sub-
ject, and enumerates (with the crudest details) the
interminable catalogue of forms of vice, the professor
usually supplementing the treatise from his own ex-
perience in the confessional. There are also treatises
on charity, on justice (a voluminous treatise which
descends into the minutest details of conjugal, social,
and commercial life), on veracity, and all other virtues.
Throughout the preceding section on virtues and
vices, which usually forms a quarto volume of 500 or
600 pages, little appeal is made to positive revelation.
The judgments of the theologian are supported from
time to time by texts of Scripture and references to
ecclesiastical legislation, but the main portion of the
work is purely ethical and rational. The second
section, however, another quarto volume of 500 pages,
discusses the seven sacraments of the Church of Rome,
the vast number of obligations they entail in practical
life, the transgressions which arise from their neglect
or abuse, and tlieir theory and practice. The principal
treatises are tlie two that deal with confession and
matrimony. In tlie one the future confessor receives
the necessary directions for his task (a much more
complicated one than is commonly supposed) ; in the

D 2

72 STUDENTSHIP

other the many impediments to marriage, on the
Catholic view, are discussed, as well as the dispensa-
tions from them, and there is a further discussion of
conjugal relations. The path throughout is beset witli
the innumerable conflicts of theologians, and every point
is profusely illustrated with real or fictitious " cases."

Moral theology is regarded as the most important
of sacerdotal studies, and in many monastic orders it
is the only study that is seriously cultivated. Young
priests have annual examinations in it for many years
after their ordination, and throughout life the priest
has to attend periodical conferences, which are held
in every monastery and diocese, for the discussion of
points of casuistry. Our professor was a young man
of much ability and refinement of character, who
lectured on the cruder sections with marked confusion
and apology, but, as a rule, priests soon acquire the
habit of discussing iadehcate " cases " with the calm-
ness of a medical man.

Much as we were attached to our professor for his
kindliness and charm of character, we had to procure
his removal at the end of a year. Though a man of
more than average ability, he was too weak and un-
suited for the monastic condition to fill his position
with credit. The dull, oppressive environment grad-
ually led him to drink, and he died an unhappy and
premature death.

For our course of dogmatic theology we had the
able guidance of Father David. He was a man of
wide erudition and considerable mental power, and
held us, with one or two exceptions, magnetically
bound to him during our studentship. It was a curious
fact that nearly all of his students withdrew them-

STUDENTSHIP 73

selves from his influence in later years. The change
seemed to be due to the subsequent discovery of the
inaccuracy of many of the statements we had taken
from him — want of practice in writing and a shrinking
from criticism had encouraged a certain degree of care-
lessness in his expressions— and partly to the fact that
his early kindness and assistance had too much of an
element of patronage and authority to survive in
maturer years. Personally I was the most indebted to
his guidance, and was the last of my course to remain
under his influence. He had a remarkable grasp of
dogmatic theology, because he had a thorough know-
ledge of the scholastic philosophy, which pervades and
unites its entire structure. For dogmatic theology
takes the student in hand at the point at which phifo-
sophy has left him ; it is, in fact, merely revelation set
in a philosophical frame. The various points of dogma
whicii are contained (or supposed to be contained) in
Scripture, were first selected by the Fathers, and
developed, generally by the aid of the Neo-Platonic
philosophy, into formidable structures. The schoolmen
completed the synthesis with the aid of the Peripatetic
philosophy, and elaborated the whole into a vast scheme
which they called theology. The purely philosophical
problems which arose have been extracted, and now
form the distinct science of metaphysics; the ethical
questions have been separated and formed into a moral
tlieology; the speculative science M'hich remains, still
wholly i)hilosophical in form and largely so in argu-
ment, is dogmatic theology.

Much space is occupied with the conflicts of rival
schools of theologians, especially of the Thorn ists, or
followers of St. Thomas (chiefly the Dominicans and

74 , STUDENTSHIP

Jesuits— though Thomism is in general favour just
now, since the Pope has declared for St. Thomas), and
the Scotists (Franciscans) or followers of the Franciscan
Duns Scotus. These rival groups quarrel about every
question that the Church has left undefined. One im-
portant result of these divisions is that grave questions
of living interest are only imperfectly grasped by
theologians until the world has moved on a step, and
they then ungracefully follow it. Their time is chiefly
occupied with questions that are fitly illustrated by the
problem of the number of angels that could stand on a
needle's point.

Through this scheme of education every aspirant to
the Roman CathoUc priesthood must pass. In the
larger seminaries and more prosperous congregations
the programme is carried out with great fidelity, and
the more brilhant students are sent on to the universi-
ties (Washington, Louvain, Innspruck, Freiburg, and
Rome) for more advanced courses. The smaller
seminaries and minor congregations, who are ever
pressed for priests, curtail the scheme very freely;
philosophy is all but omitted, dogmatic theology is
reduced to the indispensable minimum, and moral
theology is carefully pruned of its luxurious growth
of superfluous controversies. In the case of monastic
orders, whose work consists almost entirely in mission-
ary and parochial activity amongst the poor, the Church
connives at a lower standard of education.

In the Franciscan Order the constitutions, from
which its admirers usually but wrongly derive their
information of its practices, generously prescribe three
years for philosophy and four for theology. In few
branches of the order are more than five years devoted

STUDENTSHIP 75

to the liigher studies. In England we were the
pioneers of a new system, and from first to last our
studies were irregular and stunted. We spent five
years as students at Forest Gate, of which fifteen
months were devoted to classics and rhetoric, fifteen
months to philosophy, and two years and a half to
theology. During that period our life differed little
from the model described in the preceding cliapter.
We rose at a quarter to five, dragged through the long
programme of religious services, and commenced study
at eight; six or seven hours per day were devoted to
study, and the remainder of the time was occupied as
I have described.

We had taken the irrevocable vows three years after
leaving the novitiate. One of our number had obtained
papal release from his "simple " vows, but most of
us looked forward eagerly to the priesthood, the " end
of study," as we equivocally called it, and we found
means to enliven the dull and insanitary hfe that had
to be traversed first. No vacation is allowed during
the whole of the period, but once or twice a week we
had the luxury of divesting ourselves of the heavy robe
and taking long walks in ordinary clerical attire, and
once or twice a year we were granted a whole-day
holiday to some pleasant spot. This was in the later
years. At the commencement of the period we had
ample practical illustration of the meaning of a vow
of poverty — which is more than the modern mendicant
friar anticipates. Under one superior, a very mediocre
friar, who had been put into office to serve the purpose
of a diplomatic and ambitious higher superior, our diet
and clothing became painfully appropriate to our pro-
fession of mendicancy. His parsimony and real lack

76 STUDENTSHIP

of money were neatly concealed behind a cheerful pro-
fession and praise of " holy poverty " before which all
complaint was stultified. However, our congregation,
and the income of our church increased, so that
" holy poverty " was laid aside in favour of more
humane sentiments. Our diet became generous and
substantial, our beer and wine more expensive, and a
heating apparatus was introduced ; we almost attained
the ordinary level of modern monastic life.

Still the life was extremely insanitary, and there
was much sickness amongst us. During three years
we lost six of our young men, and almost all of us
entered upon our active career with deeply impaired
constitutions. Our medical attendant waged a constant
but fruitless war with our superiors to procure a saner
recreation for us ; at his demand for exercise we were
furnished with picks and shovels and turned into our
garden. One huge mound of earth afforded us exercise
for four years; one superior desired to see it in a
central heap, his successor fancied it in the form of a
Roman camp, and a third directed us to form an en-
trenchment along the side of the garden with it. But
the root of the evil was far deeper than they cared to
recognise; it lay in the isolation, the dull, soul-
benumbing oppression of the monastic life.

The sick were treated with great kindness, as a
rule, but, naturally, with little skill and effectiveness ;
for no woman is, under any conceivable circumstances,
allowed to enter the monastery. In a serious illness
which befell me I had painful experience of that aspect
of celibate life. The custards and beef -tea which the
doctor had ordered were made by our cook of corn-
flour and somebody's essence of beef (the cook had the

STUDENTSHIP 77

laudable intention of saving time for his prayers) ; and
even when certain lady friends outside had taken the
responsibility for my diet, I still had the equivocal
blessing of " fraternal " nursing. The lay-brother
who acted as my infirmarian, a good, rough, kind-
hearted fellow, like most of his class, had been a collier
before his conversion, and, though he made a strained
effort to be gentle and soothing, his big horny hands
lent themselves very badly to the work. However, no
expense was spared in the cai-e of the sick, and most
superiors were extremely kind and considerate in their
treatment.

The constant changes of the inmates of the monastery
also afford some relief to the monotony of the life.
Elections are held every eighteen months, at which
changes of superiors are made and monks are trans-
ferred from one monastery to another. For months in
advance the convents are thrown into a fever of excite-
ment over the issues. Discontented inferiors are
afforded an opportunity of venting their grievances, as
a commissioner, or " visitator," is sent from Home,
who has a strictly secret and confidential talk with
every friar in the province before the election takes
place. In some monasteries and nunneries the superior
is elected for life, and in such cases he is usually
chosen by the inmates themselves with great care. In
our fraternity, and in many other congregations, the
local superiors, or " guardians," of the various mon-
asteries were a{)pointed by a higher council, as I will
describe later, and had to hand in their resignations
at the end of eighteen months ; if their record was
satisfactory, they might be re-elected for a time. The
frequent cliange is a matter of general satisfaction, for

MlCHAa J. r-M CR

78 STUDENTSHIP

no superior ever succeeds in gaining the sympathy of
an entire community. One o£ the kindest and ablest
superiors we ever had, Father Bede, a man of excep-
tionally earnest, sincere, and unworldly life, only
retained the position for a year and a half, and at the
end of that term was Avith great difficulty dissuaded
from leaving our province altogether. There was a
great deal of intrigue afoot always in connection with
the elections.

Feast-days also helped to break the monotony of
the life. Even in our poorest days the higher festivals
were celebrated with much gaiety and opulent meals ;
for there are always plenty of thoughtful friends, and
usually a nunnery or two, in the neighbourhood of a
friary to supply the defects of the masculine cuisine on
special occasions. On such days the law of silence is
suspended at dinner, and the friars join in a general
conversation and raillery ; often, too, an impromptu
concert is added, and the songs of bygone days re-echo
through the cloisters. Our refectory was prudently
located, as is usual, at the back of the house, and far
from profane ears. Wine is poured out in abundance ;
in our days of poverty it was weak Rhine wine or an
inferior port, but with the return of prosperity (and
the advent of a generous benefactress), good port and
whisky, and a fair quantity of champagne, made their
appearance. We students also were liberally supplied
with wine, and, as some religiously declined it, others
drank too generously. Youths in their teens, who had
never seen wine in their homes, drank their half -bottle
once or twice a month. A lamentable proportion of
them became immoderate drinkers.

The long preparation for the priesthood is divided

STUDENTSHIP 79

into stages marked by the reception o£ the preliminary
orders. In the Church of Rome there are seven orders
through which the cleric must pass, four minor and
three major or '* holy " orders. In the early Church
eacli order marked a certain category of officials in
which tlie candidate for the priesthood was detained
for some time. The first ceremony, the giving of the
" tonsure," in which the bishop symbolically cuts five
locks of hair from the head of the neophyte, is a formal
initiation into the ranks of the clergy. Whilst the hair
is being cut the j^outh repeats after the bishop the
words, " The Lord is the part of my inheritance," for
the " cleric " is one who has chosen the part (cleros)
of the Lord. After a time he passes through the four
minor orders, and becomes successively doorkeeper,
reader, exorcist, and acolythe. To-day the tonsure
and the minor orders are usually given in one ceremony,
for the lower offices have been partly absorbed in the
higher, and partly committed to non-clerics. But the
conservatism of the Church still insists on the orders
being taken and their functions discharged at least
once ; so that the newly appointed doorkeeper, for in-
stance, must march ceremoniously to tlie church door,
which he opens and shuts, and rings the bell, before
the bishop will proceed to make him reader. The
function of exorcist can now only be discharged by a
priest, with the permission of the bishop in each case.
In the west of Ireland, where belief in diabolical inter-
ference and the power of the priest is still very pro-
found, exorcisms are not infrequent. But they are not
unknown in enlightened London. A case came to my
knowledge recently in which Cardinal Vaughan con-
templated exorcising a man, but the spirit threatened

80 STUDENTSHIP

to do such serious internal damage before departing
that the ceremony was abandoned.

The subdiaconate is usually received at the age of
twenty-one, and the diaconate in the following year.
In the monastic orders, where the vow of celibacy has
already been pronounced, these ceremonies are com-
paratively unimportant, but to the secular student the
subdiaconate is a fateful step ; the vow is made by
taking a step forward in the sanctuary at the invita-
tion of the bishop, and many a student has withdrawn
at the last moment. The long ceremony of ordination
is impressive and ridiculous in turns. It contains many
beautiful prayers and symbolic rites, but it retains parts
— such as the exhortations to the candidates (who rarely
understand the muttered Latin) and the interrogation
of the people (who would almost commit a sacrilege if
they replied) about the merits of the candidates — which
have long ceased to have any force whatever.

Two years are supposed to elapse between the diacon-
ate and the priesthood, but we received the three major
orders within the same six months. Ecclesiastical laws
can always be suspended by Rome in unusual circum-
stances, and the extraordinary extent to which clerical
regulations ai-e over-ruled to-day indicates on what evil
days the Church has fallen.

CHAPTER V

PRIESTHOOD

A CONSIDERATION o£ the Scheme of study which has
been described would lead to the impression that
Roman Catholic priests must be in a highly satisfactory
condition of intellectual equipment. No other priest-
hood has, or ever had, a longer and more systematic
course of training. For ten years, on the average, the
candidate is under the exclusive control of the ecclesi-
astical authorities — authorities who have the advantage
of an indefinitely long and world-wide experience in
trainuig their neophytes and a religious authority over
them. Their scheme of education, indeed, does seem
perfectly constructed for the attainment of their
particular object.

Yet it is generally recognised that the Catholic priest-
hood, as a body, are not at all remarkable for their
attainments and their intellectual training. Their
system is admirable on paper, but it evidently breaks
down somewhere. That this widely-felt impression of
their inferiority is not a llng(M-ing trace of the ancient
prejudice against Hume is clear from the fact that
Knglishmen notice the inferiority more particularly out-
side of England, wfiere Roman Catholic priests do not
[>rcsent themselves in the light of schismalic.il in-
truders. And it is placed beyond all doubt by the cir-

81

82 PRIESTHOOD

cumstance that the feeUng is largely shared, and has
been emphatically expressed, by the Roman Catholic
laity. The correspondence columns of their journals
frequently contain appeals for the better education of
the clergy. The broad fact that, with the wider diffusion
of modern thought, the theological army has struck its
flag, and retreated from point after point, implies a
grave defect even in the leading thinkers of the Church,
as the laity are quick to perceive. It is not surpris-
ing, therefore, to find the ordinary clergy much behind
the age in questions of general interest.

The last sermon I preached in a Catholic church
(that of St. Antony, at Forest Gate) was an appeal
for the higher education of the clergy. I urged that
modern thought had entirely changed the position of
the religious teacher, and had made it necessary to
have a regard for intellectual as well as moral train-
ing ; and I freely denounced the actual ignorance of
the clergy. My mind had already passed from the
Roman Catholic faith, and I spoke strongly and
sincerely on the subject. My colleagues feebly con-
gratulated me afterwards, but the laymen of the con-
gregation actually sent a deputy to assure me of their
gratitude and their admiration of my bold expression
of their sentiments. On the following evening, after
a scientific lecture I gave them, I spoke on the subject
to a group of educated laymen, and found them deeply
moved on the question. Certainly the clergy of St.
Antony's (four of whom were professors) were not
below the average. In most of the churches of that
part of London the clergy were far more ignorant, and
even among communities of priests who have wealth
and leisure, like the Jesuits or Oratorians, there are

PRIESTHOOD 83

few who have even a superficial knowledge of modern
science, history, or philosophy. The impression was
confirmed wherever one listened to Catholic sermons
or entered into serious conversation with the priests.

The reasons of this signal failure of a fine educational
scheme may be deduced partly from what has pre-
ceded. The system is unproductive, in the first in-
stance, on account of the youth and immaturity of
the students. At nineteen, when they should still be
polishing their wit on Homer, or Tacitus, or Euclid,
they are gravely attacking the profoundest problems
of metaphysics. A well-educated man of thirty-two,
who had a brief course of philosophy under F. David,
told me that he felt as if he were handUng blocks of
granite which he was unable to penetrate; our usual
students never even realised that they were handling
" blocks of granite." Out of several groups of
students who passed through my hands only one boy
had an idea of the meaning of philosophy. He con-
fessed to me that it was because, like myself, he was
tormented by religious doubt from an early age. Be-
fore he reaches the age of twenty-four the student has
traversed the whole vast system of scholastic philosophy
and theology, with its innumerable secondary problems
and controversies. He has his opinions formed upon
hundreds of subjects, and knows what to think of every
philosophical and religious system that has ever been
invented, if it be ancient enough. He will have very
Uttle opportunity and less competence to reconsider his
opinions afterwards.

But the studies are not even conducted at the ages
and with the intervals prescribed by the ecclesiastical
legislation; the scarcity of priests (the rarilas voca-

84 PRIESTHOOD

tionum of which the Pope speaks), induces authorities
unduly to accelerate and curtail the course of the
higher studies. Every diocese and nearly every reUgi-
ous congregation in England and the States is insuffi-
ciently manned. Thousands of baptized Catholics are
allowed to drift for want of clergy, and bishops not
infrequently in despair accept priests who have been
expelled from other dioceses or congregations. It is
true that scores of priests are sent to convert the
natives of Borneo, or to bargain with rival missionaries
over the fortunate Ugandians, and that strenuous efforts
are made to touch the consciences of respectable adher-
ents of other Churches ; but the fact remains that in
both London and New York tens of thousands of poor
Catholics have drifted for want of priests and chapels.
This leads inevitably to pressure in the seminaries and
curtailment of the studies.

And it is not merely to procure " labourers for the
vineyard" that the studies are deplorably mutilated;
another, and a rather curious motive of hurry is found
in certain congregations at least. Certainly in the
Franciscan Order students were prematurely advanced
to the priesthood for the sake of earning money by
their masses. A mass, of course, cannot be sold ; that
would be simony. But a priest will say mass for you
or your intention if you make him a present of half-
a-crown. He may say it gratuitously if he pleases, but
the English bishops have decreed that if a priest
accepts a " stipend " at all he must not take less than
half-a-crown. Now every friar is bound to say mass
for his superior's intention, and the superior, having
to provide for the community, secures as many and
as " fat " stipends as he possibly can. As a friar is

PRIESTHOOD 85

bound to say mass every morning he is worth at least
£l per week on that count alone; in fact, at Forest
Gate, where we were six priests, more than £400 was
obtained annually in stipends for masses. As a priest,
however young he may be, says mass daily from the
day of his ordination, the anxiety of the superior to
see him ordained is easily understood. A student is
an onus on the community ; he must be made productive
as soon as possible.

Under such conditions it is not strange that their
educational system leads to such unsatisfactory results.
Numbers of j^oung priests are annually discharged upon
humanity with full powers to condemn and anathe-
matise, and an intense itching to do so. They soon
find that the " crude and undigested mass " they have
learned is a burden to themselves and a source of pain
to their long-suffering audience. In their eagerness to
be subtle they teach rank heresy, trouble timid con-
sciences, and hurt themselves against episcopal author-
ity. Then they abandon study entirely, thinking it
useless for their purpose. Mr. Jerome has a caricature
somewhere of the newly fledged Anglican curate. The
young evangelist stands at a table on which are
cigarettes and brandy and soda ; his books are on sale
or exchange, " owner having no further use for same."
The skit is entirely applicable to the average priest.

The canonical age for ordination is twenty-four,
and it is probably tlie average age; but this precau-
tion is nullified by the facility witii which dispensations
are granted. The bishop can dispense at twenty-three,
and tlie Roman autliorities readily grant a dispensation
once the candidate has reached the age of twenty-two
and two months. Most of our friars began to earn

86 PRIESTHOOD

their pound per week at the age of twenty-two or
twenty-three. Under one provincial bishop, it is said
that there was always a brood of half-fledged priests,
who went by the name of " Sovereign Pontiffs " ; they
used to be sent to sing mass on Sundays for priests
who were absent or unwell, and the bishop always
exacted a sovereign for their services. The usual
term of reproach for such immature priests is, " Praesta
quaesumus " — an allusion to the fact that they cannot
do more than say mass, for the expression is a common
beginning of mass-prayers.

The ordination is preceded by an episcopal examina-
tion in theology. Before the subdiaconate the student
must present one treatise on theology for examination ;
he must prepare two for the diaconate and three for
the priesthood. The examination is, however, little
more than a test of the memory and industry of the
aspirant ; if he knows the defined points of Catholic
doctrine on the subjects taken, little more is expected
of him. And students are usually careful to select the
shortest treatises for presentation, and to carry the
same treatise through three examinations. Still aspir-
ants are occasionally " ploughed " ; though, judging
from the preposterous answers of certain successful
students whom I have seen at the tribunal, it is difficult
to conceive the possibility of failure.

The ceremony of ordination, which may be wit-
nessed on Ember Saturdays in Catholic cathedrals, is
very long and highly symbolical. In fact, it has de-
veloped to such an alarming extent that no theologian
can say in what the " essence " of the ordination
really consists ; there are innumerable controversies as
to which rites are essential to the validity of the sacra-

PRIESTHOOD 87

nient. From the readiness of the theologian to pass
judgment on Anglican orders one would imagine that
he knew the conditions of validity without hesitation ;
tiie truth is, that in the case of each of the three
"sacred orders," theologians diiTer emphatically as
to the essential parts of the ordination. Students are
usually in a state of terror about the numerous possi-
bilities of the invalidity of their ordination, and even
bishops betray much nervous anxiety in the matter ;
the ceremony is sometimes repeated for general satis-
faction. A curious story in illustration of the strange
contingencies that affect the validity of orders is told
of a French bishop. He had exercised episcopal func-
tions for many years, when one day his old nurse was
heard to boast that she had baptized him (in periculo),
and that she had not used common water, but rose-
water for the purpose. The baptism was invalid; his
subsecjuent confirmation and ordination wei-e invalid,
for baptism is an indispensable condition of receiving
the other sacraments ; all the ordinations he had ever
held were invalid, and had to be repeated ; and all the
masses, absolutions, &c., performed by himself and
his priests during that period had been invalid.

A further source of confusion is found in the need
for wliat is called " jurisdiction " before certain of
the priestly functions can be validly used. At ordina-
tion the priest receives the power to say mass, and not
even the Papacy can withdraw this (though it may for-
bid him to exercise it). On the Catholic theory I still
possess that power in full, and if I seriously utter the
words, " Hoc est enim corpus meum " over the piece
of bread I am eating (for that is the essential part of
tlie mass) it is changed forthwith into the living body

88 PRIESTHOOD

of Christ : it is seriously believed on the Continent
that apostate priests frequently consecrate for the so-
called Satanists and Freemasons. However, the power
of absolving from sin is not of the same character ; it
is only radically received in the ceremony of ordina-
tion, and the validity of its exercise is entirely depend-
ent upon ecclesiastical authority. M. Zola, most
patient and accurate of inquirers, has overlooked this
distinction; in " Lourdes " the Abbe Pierre is made
to hear Marie's confession when he has no jurisdiction
over her and could not vahdly absolve her.^

A second examination (in casuistry) is necessaiy
before " faculties " to hear confessions are granted,
which is usually some time after ordination. And
jurisdiction is Umited to the diocese of the bishop who
gives faculties, and may be still further restricted at
his pleasure : nunneries and boarding-schools are
always excepted from it; and there are always a cer-
tain number of sins tiie absolution of which the bishop
reserves for himself. In some dioceses the list of
"reserved cases" is long and interesting: it usually
comprises the sins which are most prevalent in a dis-
trict. The confessor must, in such cases, Avrite to the
bishop for power to absolve, and tell the penitent to
return to him. In London four cases are reserved :
immoral advances by a priest to women in the con-
fessional, frequentation of theatres by a priest,^ murder,

^ A non-Catholic writer is almost certain to stumble in liturgical
matters. M. Zola's administration of the sacraments to the dying
—to the pilgrim in the train in ' ' Lourdes, " and to Count Dario in
"Rome "—is quite incorrect. It has never been pointed out, too,
that the moon's conduct, during Pierre's three last nights in Rome,
is out of all bounds of astronomical propriety.

* It must not be supposed that every priest one sees in a London

PRIESTHOOD 89

and connection with a secret society. Two cases wliich
are always reserved to the Pope will be treated in the
next chapter.

For a long period after liis ordmation the priest's
activity is confined to saying mass every morning. He
is not indeed bound to say mass every morning; he is
compelled to hear mass every Sunday by the general
law, but there is no clear obligation for him to exercise
his power to consecrate.^ But the young priest says
it daily during the years of his primitive fervour, and
many continue the practice faithfully throughout life.
Monastic priests are usually bound by their constitu-
tions to say mass daily. It would be wiser to allow
them liberty in that respect. Priests soon contract
the habit of hurrying through their mass at a speed
which ill harmonises with its solemn character. In
fact, the Church has been forced to legislate on the
point, and forbid the saying of mass in less than twenty
minutes for an ordinary, and fifteen minutes for a
" black " ^ mass (for the dead). No doubt a priest
works up to a liigh rate of speed largely out of anxiety
to meet the wishes of his congregation, yet the siglit
is distressing to one who knows how much is squeezed
into the twenty minutes. An ordinary worshipper

tlioatre liaa incnrred this. The law is local only in action, ami
does not apj'ly to visitors — Siiy, from the States.

* So tluit Zola is wrong in imputing it as a fault that the priests
at Lounli's omitted to say mass.

* A black mass — in whicii the priest wears Ijlaek vestments — is
shorter than usual : hence it is that black vestments so often adorn
tlic shoulders of an ordinary secular priest. Green vestments arc
worn on a common, saintless day ; red for a martyr or the Holy
flhost ; white for virgins, confi;ssors, and all great feasts ; purple
for sadder festivals ; and gold for any purpose.

90 PRIESTHOOD

merely sees the rapid irreverent genuflections and the
desperate hand movements which are supposed to be
crosses over the sacrament, but the mutilation of the
prayers is much more deplorable : nearly all are direct
and more or less famihar petitions to the Almighty,
and one cannot but hope (for the priest's sake) that
he is wholly unconscious of the meaning of his
orisons. It is difficult, no doubt, when a large con-
gregation is shifting uneasily on the benches, and
perhaps another priest is frowning upon you from the
chancel, waiting for his turn. Certainly there are
very many priests who acquit themselves with edifying
devotion, but the majority run through their mass
(apart from pressure) in the allotted twenty minutes ;
and, since it takes a priest nearly an hour to say mass
in his early practising days, one can imagine at what
price the high speed is obtained.

The mass is rendered rather ludicrous sometimes
from an opposite reason — through its undue prolonga-
tion and interruption by musical accompaniment. The
High Mass only differs from the daily Low Mass in
the number of assistants and the musical rendering of
some of the parts. It is utterly incongruous from the
purely religious point of view that the celebrant should
interrupt his solemn rites, whilst he and his congrega-
tion listen to the florid strains of Haydn or Gounod,
operatically rendered by soulless singers who have no
idea of the meaning of their words, and are very fre-
quently non-Catholics. Pope Leo XIII. did endeavour
to bring about a refoi-m, but he must have realised
that it is the music and display that fill the Catholic
churches.

At the same time it must be said that the Church

PRIESTHOOD 91

does not do all in its power to make the mass (and
other ceremonies) appeal to the priest. It retains a
number of vestments and rites that have ceased to
have any meaning. The " humeral veil," which is
worn over the shoulders by the sub-deacon at mass and
by the priest at Benediction, is a curious survival of
the once intelligible custom of drawing a veil across
the sanctuary at the most solemn moments ; the
maniple, an embroidered cloth that dangles at the
priest's left elbow, and is a similarly atrophied relic
of the primitive handkerchief, is now not only un-
meaning but gravely inconvenient. The practice of
solemnly facing the people to sing the epistle and gospel
in Latin, and other such survivals of ancient custom,
are interesting from an archaeological point of view,
but they ought to have been changed centuries ago ;
indeed, no serious defence can be made of the use of
Latin at all in the Church of Rome.

Ecclesiastical Latin is, of course, easy, yet it is a
fact that many priests know so little Latin of any
kind that many i)arts of the mass and Office are quite
meaningless to them. I remember a country priest
who was invited to bless a churn. He took the book
of (Lathi) benedictions to the farm, and donned liis
surplice. Not knowing the Latin for a cluirn (whicli
may be excused) he pitched upon a " Benedictio
thalami " as probably referring to a churn, and read
the " Blessing of a marriage bed," with the usual
solemnity, over the cliurn of cream. ^ Certainly some

^ There are blessings for every conceivable purpose. In my
younf^er days a woman oik^o asked me to read a prayer over lier.
I could not divine the particular purj)ose, and she soenied uncnni-
municalive. So I chose one. IVoni the book, ralhcr at random ; and

92 PRIESTHOOD

of the sequences in the mass and many of the hymns
in the Breviary are beyond the capacity of a large
number of priests.

And it must be admitted that no familiarity with
Latin will enable the priest to attach a meaning to
certain portions of the liturgy— especially to some of
the psalms. The approved Latin version of the Psalter
is a disgraceful performance ; yet it has been used for
1600 years, and there is no question of changing it.
St. Jerome, an expert Hebraist, offered an excellent
translation in his classical Latin, but the monks knew
the old Psalter by heart and would not change ; hence
the first translation of the psalms into bad Latin by
very imperfect Hebrew scholars endures to this day.
Some of the psalms — notably the 58th — contain un-
mitigated absurdities; the verse " Kings of armies have
fled, have fled " is rendered, " King of virtues, beloved,
beloved "; verse 13 runs, " If you sleep in the middle
of the lots, the wings of the dove are silvered," &c.
There are many similar verses. Yet the good old
monks, who doubtless found many deep symbolical
meanings in the above, clung to the version, and their
modern successors may be excused for wool-gathering
during their chanting.

About forty psalms enter into the daily " Office "
which the priest has to recite. One often sees a
secular priest mumbling over his Breviary in train or
omnibus ; he is bound to form the words with his lips,

she was safely delivered of twins shortly afterwards. In Belgium I
was severely censured for sending to a dentist a young woman who
came to me with a severe toothache, and an old lady, who had
diseased cows, to a veterinary surgeon. I incurred grave suspicion
of rationalism from my colleagues.

PRIESTHOOD 93

at least. The monks, however, recite their Office in
their choir, or private chapel, which is fitted with
stalls, like a cathedral. The two sides take up the
alternate verses of the psalms, chanting the words in
a loud monotone ; it is only sung on solemn occasions.
The whole of it is set to music, and in such inactive
monasteries as the Carthusians, where it is a question
what to do Avith one's time, the whole is sung daily.
It takes about three hours to chant it in the ordinary
monotone, and no normal human mind could remain
in real prayer so long. Indeed, the facility with
which the two rows of chanting friars could be thrown
into fits of laughter was a clear symptom of vacuity.
Even during our novitiate we were frequently con-
vulsed with laughter at the entanglements of an elderly
friar who read the prayers at breakneck speed. At
London one day our instructor, who led one side of the
choir, suddenly raised the tone about an octave in the
middle of the psalm. The head superior, who led the
other side, disagreed with him (as usual). We were
afraid to join with either, for they were equallj^ formid-
able to us, so we listened with interest as they con-
tinued the psalm to the end, chanting alternate verses
at a distance of an octave and a half. Deaf elderly
friars also caused distraction by going ahead in com-
plete unconsciousness of the pauses of the rest of the
community.

And if there was much to be desired in these
religious oflices which were of a private character it
will be readily imagined tiiat their public services were
not more satisfactory. It is impossible to expect a
continuous ecstasy during the long hours which monks
ami nuns devote to prayer every day ; and since most

94 PRIESTHOOD

of the psalms do not vary from day to day, the very
monotony of the services vpould stand in the way of
any very serious devotion. In fact, the idea of follow-
ing the sense of the words recited day after day for
hours together was so forbiddmg that it was frankly
given up by our spiritual writers; they were content
to urge us to prepare in advance Unes of religious
thought to follow while we were chanting which would
have no connection with the Office itself. We tried
to do so. But the early riser who passes some London
monastery in the small hours of a winter morning, and
catches the sound of the solemn chant breaking on the
sleepy air, must not too hastily conclude that here is a
focus of intense spiritual thought which should work—
if only telepathically (as some think to-day)— for the
betterment of hfe. The religious exercises of the friars-
must be cut down by two-thirds before they can become
really spiritual.

But in the public ceremonies a new distracting
element is introduced— the presence of closely observ-
ant spectators; it were not in human nature to be
insensible of their presence. The sanctuary becomes a
stage ; and strive how he may to think of higher things,
the ordinary mortal cannot banish the thought that
some hundreds, perhaps thousands, of reverent eyes
are bent upon his every movement. The Catholic
sanctuary, with its myriads of burning tapers, its
fragrant incense, its glory of colour in flowers and
vestments, compels attention. Every line of the
church converges to the altar and the priest. Hence
it is not surprising to find that there is a great deal of
formalism and purely dramatic effect in sanctuary
work. No one, probably, will think much of the grave

PRIESTHOOD 95

and devout expressions of the ministers. It is a part
of their discipline to cultivate such an expression, and
it soon becomes automatic. In point of fact, there
are few who are not keenly concerned about the
material success of their function — their singing, their
deportment, and appearance. At such a time as Holy
Week, for instance, the feverish anxiety for the suc-
cess of the elaborate services runs so high that one may
safely say they are quite unattended with religious
feeling in the sanctuary. Ceremonies and music are
practised for weeks in advance, and, when the time
comes, celebrants are too busy and too nervous to
think of more than the merely mechanical or theatrical
part of the devotions.

And the same thought applies, naturally, to preach-
ing ; it runs on the same lines in the Church of Rome
as in every other cliurch. There are deeply religious
preachers whose only serious thought is for the good
of their hearers, as they conceive it ; there are preachers
who think only of making a flattering impression on
their audience, or who are utterly indifferent what
effect or impression they produce ; the vast majority
strive to benefit their hearers, and are not unassisted
in their efforts by a very natural feeling of self-interest.
I heard a typical story of one a few years ago. The
priest in (luestion is one of the most familiar figures
in Catholic circles in the north of England, an ardent
zealot for the " conversion " of England, and, I be-
lieve, a very earnest and worthy man. On this
occasion he was preaching in the open air to a large
special congregation who had made a pilgrimage to
some Roman Catholic resort. The preacher seemed
to be carried away by his feelings. My informant,

96 PRIESTHOOD

however, a keen critic of elocution, noticed that one
gesture — a graceful sweep of the wide-sleeved arm —
was unduly prolonged, and, looking more closely, he
saw that the preacher was signalling to a photographer
in the opposite corner of the quadrangle. The preacher
told him afterwards that he had arranged to be photo-
graphed at this specially prepared gesture. The photo-
grapher had been so captivated by the sermon that
he had to be recalled to his duty by the orator him-
self. I also remember being grievously shocked once
in my early days at one of the London " stars." I
happened to be near the door when he re-entered the
cloister after a very fervent discourse, and he imme-
diately burst out with the exclamation, " Now, where
is that glass of port! " Five years later I used to
feel grateful myself for a glass of port after preaching.
It is not an apostolic practice, but this is not an
apostolic age, and it only merits contempt when it
professes to be such.

If the priest has an educated congregation he usually
prepares his sermon with care. The sermons are rarely
original, for there is a vast library of sermonnaires at
the disposal of the Catholic priest, but it is often
written out in full ; though it is never read from the
pulpit, as is done in Anglican congregations. Good
preaching is, however, rather the exception than the
rule; though the age of martyrs has passed away, a
Catholic can always find a sufficient test of his faith
in the shape of an indifferent preacher who insists on
thinking that he needs two three-quarters of an hour
sermons every Sunday. In poor parishes the sermons
usually degenerate into intolerable harangues. A priest
who had charge of a large poor mission told me that

PRIESTHOOD 97

lie always prepared his sermon the Iiour before it was
delivered : he took a cup of tea, ht a cigar, opened the
gospel of the day and thought dreamily over it, then
he ascended the pulpit and preached for half-an-hour.
Men of wide erudition and facility of utterance would
often preach most impressive sermons at a few minutes'
notice ; others, of an ascetic, earnest, contemplative
type, would also preach sound and rational moral dis-
courses without preparation. The practice of preach-
ing the same sermon many times is, of course, widely
prevalent. I remember one old friar fondly kissing a
much worn manuscript after a sermon on St. Joseph :
'' God bless it," he said, " that is the sixty-third time
I liave preached it."

There are many other functions in which the priest
finds it difficult to sustain the becoming attitude. Con-
fession will be treated in the next chapter ; Extreme
Unction is a ceremony in which only a keener faith
than we usually meet to-day can take a religious
interest. But it is in the ceremony of baptism,
especially, that the most unreasonable rites survive and
the most diverting incidents occur. There is, for in-
stance, a long series of questions to be put to the
siX)nsors, and the Church, unmindful apparently of the
march of time, still insists on tlieir being put in Latin
(and answered by the priest) and repeated afterwards
in Knglfsh. One lay-brother who used to assist me
in baptizing thought it more proper that he should
learn the Latin responses, instead of allowing me to
answer myself. Unfortunately he muddled the dia-
logues, and to my query : " Dost thou believe in God
the Father," &c. ? he answered, with proud emphasis,
" Abrenuntio — I renounce him."

98 PRIESTHOOD

I was, however, little occupied with sacerdotal
functions. Even before my ordmation I had been
appointed to the chair of philosophy, and as soon as
I became a priest I entered upon my duties as pro-
fessor. My interest in philosophy had been noticed
by the authorities, and probably attributed to a natural
taste for the subject. The trutli was that I was
tormented with doubt, and I knew that philosophy
alone could furnish the cure — if cure there was. My
doubts had commenced six years previously, in the
novitiate. I can remember almost the hour, almost
the spot in the monastic garden, when, on a fine
winter's day, as I chanted to myself the eternal refrain
of our ascetic literature, " Ye shall i-eceive a hundred-
fold in heaven," the fatal question fell across my mind
like a lightning-shaft, to sear and torture for many a
weary year. I had dutifully confessed my state of
mind to my superior. Kind and earnest as he was,
he had nevertheless little capacity for such emer-
gencies ; he made me kneel at his feet in his cell and,
after severely pointing out the conceit of a boy daring
to have doubts — holding up the exemplary faith of
Wiseman, Newman, &c. — he discharged me with the
usual admonition to stifle immediately any further
temptation of that character. He acted upon the
received ascetical principle that there are two kinds
of temptations which must be fled from, not met and
fought, namely, temptations against purity and tempta-
tions against faith : in the second case the rule is
certainly dishonest. Indeed, thoughtful priests do not
recognise it, though it is sanctioned, in theory and
practice, by the majority.

My scepticism increased ; it was partly an effect of

PRIESTHOOD 99

temperament, partly a natural desire to verify tiie
opinions which I found myself acting upon. At
London I immediately put myself under the guidance
of F. David, and for seven years he was informed,
almost weekly, of the growth of my thou,f^hts.
Though most intimate with him I never allowed him
to make any allusion to my difficulties outside the con-
fessional, but, in confession, I spent many hours pvo-
pounding my difficulties and listening with sincere
attention to his replies. As time went on I began to
feel that I had exhausted his apologetical resources,
that he had but the old threadbare formuljE to oppose
to my ever-deepening difficulties. I became, there-
fore, more dependent upon my own studies; and, as
my difficulties were wholly philosophical, I devoted
myself with untiring energy to the study of scholastic
philosophy. If, in later years, I did not appeal to
F. David when the crisis came, it was because I was
firmly convinced that I had, in private and in public
lectures, heard all that he had to say on the subject.
He was the only man who knew that my secession
was not the work of one day, but the final step in a
bitter conflict of ten long painful years. All that my
colleagues knew was that I was ever reticent and
gloomy (which was, I think, attributed to pride and
to sickness), and that I was strangely enamoured of
metaphysics ; I was, accordingly, appointed professor
of that subject.

In due time I received jurisdiction and commenced
the full exercise of sacerdotal power. A monastic
superior has the power of examining his own subjects,
and thus j)ra(lically dispensing with the episcopal
examinations. Knowing that I was not a zealous student

100 PRIESTHOOD

of casuistry, F. David kindly undertook my examina-
tion ; he asked me the formula of absolution (which I
did not know) one day when I met him in the cloister,
and then sent me up to the Vicar-General as " ex-
amined and found worthy." I then immediately
entered the mysterious and much-dreaded confessional.
How does one feel on entering upon that unique
experience? I remember the emotion, but am incom-
petent to analyse it. I only know that as I sat for
the first time in "the box " awaiting the first penitent
I was benumbed, not exalted, with a vague, elemental,
un-rational excitement. Behind me lay my long and
minute book-knowledge of all the conceivable trans-
gressions of man, woman, or child ; before me vaguely
outstretched the living world, as few see it. Then
came the quick step, the opening of the door, the rustle
of a dress — one last tremor, and the sensation was gone
for ever.

Preaching and other functions also commenced. I
was fully launched on my sacerdotal career. But the
confessional is a subject for more careful study.

CHAPTER VI

THE CONFESSIONAL

No point in the vast and contentious system of the
Church of Rome has excited, and still excites, a deeper
and a less flattering interest than the practice of
auricular confession. The Inquisition and the com-
merce in relics and indulgences (though this com-
merce is by no means extinct) are still favourite sub-
jects of the historical critic. Monasticism, the Index,
the use of a dead language, political ambition and
secular intrigue, are some of its actual features which
attract no small amount of opprobrium, and even try
the patience of many of its own adherents. But the
chief butt of the innumerable anti-papal lecturers and
[)amphleteers is the confessional. The air of mystery
and secrecy is a necessary evil of tlie confessional, and
it is a feature that provokes bitter criticism. A
l^atholic layman cannot, of course, with delicacy en-
arge upon his own experience of the confessional, and
n any case it would be too personal to be effective.
Vo ex-priest has hitherto given Iiis impressions of the
ustitution, and no priest would venture to express an
infavourable oj)iiiion upon it, or any opinion of a
•ircumstantial character, for fear of alarming his
;o-religionists.
Yet, in point of fact, there is no reason in the
E 101

102 THE CONFESSIONAL

nature of things why even an actual confessor should
not write a most ample and detailed account of his
experiences. The " seal of confession " is not merely
a sacramental obligation ; it is a natural obligation
which no ex-priest would ever dream of violating.
But the obligation has certain limits which are ex-
plicitly defined in theological woi'ks, and are practically
observed by priests. The obligation is merely to main-
tain such secrecy about confessional matters as shall
prevent the knowledge of the crime of a definite indi-
vidual ; within those limits the obligation is absolute,
and admits of no possible excuse in the smallest matter.
The priest is not even allowed to use a probability in
his own favour in this question. He is forbidden
under an obligation of the gravest possible character
to say a single word or perform any action whatever
from which the declaration of his penitent might pos-
sibly be inferred. Hence he cannot, under any con-
ceivable circumstances, act upon the information he
has received. If a priest learned from the confession
of his servant that she had put poison in the wine he
was to take for dinner, Catholic theology directs that
he must not even change the bottle, but act precisely
as if he had heard nothing. I never heard of a test
case, though it is well known that there have been
martyrs to the seal of confession. In less important
matters the confessor interprets his obligation gener-
ously. One of our friars, the superior of a monastery,
interrupted an inferior who was confessing to him, and
made him stand up and repeat apart from his confes-
sion a certain fault for which he wished to inflict a
public penance. It was a breach of the seal, though
my colleague was too subtle a casuist to admit it. I

THE CONFESSIONAL 103

remember a priest who was confessor to an acquaint-
ance of mine once saying to me of her : " Miss

seems to be very well educated; she speaks quite
smoothly on the most delicate points." I doubt
whether my friend would have cared for me to know
so much of her confession.

However, once the danger of identifying the indi-
vidual penitent is precluded, the confessor is free to
make whatever use he pleases of his knowledge.
Theological writers admonish him that it is extremely
imprudent to discuss such matters before laymen, but
that is only part of the discretion of the priest with
regard to the laity, and carries no moral obligation.
Amongst themselves priests discuss their interesting
experiences very freely ; and the professor of casuistry
is usually a man of wide experience, who gives his
students the full benefit thereof. In their conferences
(discussion-meetings) the clergy talk freely of their
experiences. It is a common practice of missionaries
to discuss the relative wickedness of town and country,
and of large cities or localities in a city. Such com-
mentaries, however, are carefully restricted to sacer-
dotal circles; there is no doubt that any departure
from the policy of unqualified secrecy would deeply
impair the fidehty of the laity, and tend to withdraw
them from that greatest engine of sacerdotal influence,
the confessional.

And tliere is another reason why confessors have
not thought it necessary to enter into the controversy
to any important extent. The attacks upon the con-
fessional have usually defeated their own object by
emphasising too strongly the accidental ratlier than
the inherent and essential evil of the institution.

E2

104 THE CONFESSIONAL

Dark stories — which may quite possibly be true in
some cases — are circulated in connection with it, and
the impression is at once urged that such practices are
a normal, or at least a large part, of what is hidden
under the veil of secrecy. The generalisation is fatal,
for the Catholic apologist has little difficulty in pointing
out the impossibihty of such a state of things ; besides,
the days are happily gone by when the CathoUc priest-
hood as a body could be accused of systematic and con-
scious immoraUty. The main contention of the critic
having been thus met and answered, attention is
diverted from the real evil of the confessional, which
is not sufficiently reahsed by those who are unfamiliar
with it.

The structures which are found in every CathoUc
church for the purpose of hearing confessions quite
exclude the cruder anti-papal view on the subject.
The penitent usually remains in sight of the congre-
gation, but in any case priest and penitent are separ-
ated by a complete partition ; a wire gauze-work, about
eighteen inches square, which is set into the partition,
enables them to talk in whispers, but contact is im-
possible. These " boxes," or confessionals, may be
inspected in any church. In hearing the confessions
of nuns the precautions are usually still more stringent ;
the confessor is locked in a kind of bureau, the nun
remaining entirely outside. But it is a fact that the
priest is not bound to hear every confession in the
"box," and that he frequently hears them in less
guarded places. I have heard the confessions of a
whole community of nuns where no such precautions
existed ; they entered singly and entirely unobserved
into the room where I sat to hear them. Their usual

THE CONFESSIONAL 105

confessor was a venerable and sedate old priest, and it
was either forgotten, or thought unnecessary, to alter
the arrangement for me. During certain hours on
Saturday the priest sits in his box for all comers. Out-
side those hours he will hear confessions in the sacristy
(where I have known a liaison to be systematically
pursued under that pretence) or anywhere, and the
anti-papal lecturer may find serious ground for reflection
in that section of his practice.

Confessions are also frequently heard at the resi-
dences of penitents. The Church does not sanction
the practice with regard to people who are capable of
attending church, but it is frequently necessary to
hear the confessions of persons who are confined to
bed. The priest is urged in such cases to leave doors
open and take various precautions to avoid scandal,
but those directions are seldom acted upon and would
not be appreciated, as a rule, by the penitent herself.
Cases are known to me in which women have feigned
or exaggerated illness for the purpose of bringing the
priest to their room — with his connivance or at his
suggestion — and a liaison of priest and penitent has
long been maintained in that way. But such appoint-
ments are attended with danger, and cannot be
widespread.

I do not believe that there is any large amount of
immorality in connection with the confessional; the
legislation of the Church on that point is stringent and
effective, and the priest is well aware tliat the con-
fessional is the worst place in the world for him to
indulge improper tendencies. He is involved in a net-
work of regulations, and sooner or later liis misconduct
is bound tu come to the knowledge of his authorities,

106 THE CONFESSIONAL

with very disastrous consequences to himself. In the
first place, as I explained in the last chapter, improper
suggestion on the part of the confessor is a sin reserved
to the bishop. He cannot say mass until he has
received absolution (I am assuming that he has not
lost all sense of obligation ^), and no brother priest
can absolve him from his fault. He must have recourse
to the bishop ; and it is safe to presume that he will
not relapse for a considerable period. In the second
place, he is deprived of the power of absolving his
accomplice. An attempt to do so is a sin reserved
to the Pope; and, as every Catholic woman knows
that such absolution is invalid, the misconduct is once
more liable to come to the cognisance of the author-
ities. The second sin which is reserved to the Pope
is a false denunciation of a confessor by a woman, so
that one has a guarantee of the genuineness of such
denunciations as are actually made.

Thus it is obviously ill-advised for the unfaithful
priest to make an evil use of the confessional, for the
danger of exposure is sternly prohibitive. A devout
Roman Catholic is horrified at the very speculation;
an impartial thinker, whose estimate of human nature
is neither unduly raised by thoughts of special graces
nor depressed by prejudice, will think of priests as
men more than usually exposed to temptation and
burdened with an enforced celibacy, but will give them
credit, on the whole, for an honest effort to realise
that higher integrity which they profess. He will

^ In that case his infidelity might not be revealed until death,
when any priest can absolve. A curious case was mentioned (by a
priest) in the Daily Telegraph a few years ago. At the death of a
Catholic military chaplain a woman presented herself to the army
authorities as his wife, and actually produced a marriage certificate.

THE CONFESSIONAL 107

not think them superhuman with the Catholic, nor
infrahuman with certain Protestants. He will not
beheve that any of their habitual practices are in-
herently immoral, but he will expect the occasional
lapses from which no large body of men can be
free.

The priest's danger is not in the confessional. It
is the same as that of any voluntary celibate, though,
in the light of what has been said about the age of
taking the vow, perhaps we ought to call him an
involuntary celibate. The fact that from time im-
memorial ecclesiastical legislation has returned again
and again to the question of priests' servants is in-
structive enough. From the thirteenth century onward
the Church has recognised a vast deal of this kind of
immorality, and I am aware that there is much of it
in England to-day, even where the housekeeper is a
relative of the priest. Further, the house-to-house
visits of the priest, and the visits he receives, are
made to ladies ; the priest is idle in the hours when
the husband is employed. From the nature of the
case, however, it is impossible to make positive state-
ments in this matter.

Whatever may be said of the general integrity of
the priest's life,^ it may be safely admitted that the
occasional transgressions of his vow in connection with
the confessional have been grossly exaggerated. And
one unfortunate consequence of the excess is that it

' I have elsewhere ventured to say, as a result of lonf,' rpflc.'t ion,
that probably one priest in ten is a man of excrptionaliv liif^Ii
character, and one in ten a man of dofcraded or livpoerilical life ;
tlie remaining eight-tenths are neith(tr very sjiiiitual nor the re-
verse, and may lapse occasionally. But in Catholie countries such
as Spain clerical immorality is general. Secojid edition.

108 THE CONFESSIONAL

has diverted attention from the real evil of the con-
fessional. It is bad enough for adult men and women
(apart from the few who really desire it) to have to
kneel weekly or monthly at the feet of a priest (usually
a man they know intimately), and tell every unworthy
thought and act into which they have been betrayed ;
for girls and young women to discuss their inmost
thoughts and feelings with such a man is vicious and
lamentable. If they are of a refined temper the
practice causes them much pain, and often leads to
duplicity or to actual debasement ; to those of a coarser
complexion the temptation to abuse the occasion is
very severe.

When I first began to hear confessions I was much
impressed with the number of girls who unburdened
their minds to me (I was almost a stranger to them)
of some long-concealed transgression of an indelicate
character. A Catholic girl usually chooses a particular
confessor (we were six in number at Forest Gate), and
presents herself at his box every week, fortnight, or
month. The priest learns to recognise her voice, if
he does not know her already, and counts her amongst
his regular penitents, of whom every confessor is
proud to have a certain number. Week after week
she comes with her slender list of the usual feminine
frailities — fibs, temper, and backbiting. At last she
is betrayed into some graver fault, or something which
she imagines (usually after it has taken place) to be
serious. She is unable to reveal it to her ordinary
confessor after her long immunity from serious sin has
won her a certain esteem from him. If she goes to
another confessor, her habitual director will learn it,
for she is bound to say how long it is since her last

THE CONFESSIONAL 109

confession. He will draw an obvious conclusion ; some
confessors go so far as to exact a repetition of the
confession to themselves. She therefore conceals the
sin, and continues her confessions and communions for
months, even years, without confessing it. Now each
such confession and communion, she has been taught,
is as vile a sin as murder or adultery. She goes
through life with her soul in her hands and the awful
picture of a CathoUc hell burning deeper into her;
until at last, in an agony of fear, she crouches one day
in the corner of the box and falters out the dread
secret of her breaking heart. And it must be remem-
bered that the subject of so much pain is often no real
sin at all. The most unavoidable feelings and acts are
confused with the most vicious practices, and some-
times regarded as " mortal sins."

But a yet sadder category is the large number of
girls who are actually corrupted by the practice of
confession. Girls who would never dream of talking
to their companions, even to their sisters or mothers
on certain points, will talk without the least restraint
to the priest. They are taught when young that such
is the intention of Christ; that in the confessional
every irregular movement (and to their vaguely dis-
ci[)lined moral sense the category embraces the whole
of sexual physiology) must be revealed. They are
reminded that nothing superfluous must be added, yet
that the sense of shame in the confessional must be
regarded as a grave temptation of the evil one. So
I hey learn to control it, then to lay it aside temporarily,
and finally to lose it. They begin to confer with each
other on the subject, to compare the impressibility,
the inquisitiveness, or the knowledge, of various con-

no THE CONFESSIONAL

fessors, and they make plots (they have admitted as
much to me) to put embarrassing questions to priests.

I am not suggesting for a moment that Cathohc
women and girls are less sensitive or less moral than
those under the influence of other religions. That
would be an untruth. But quite certainly it is one
of the evil influences in their lives that, although they
at first manifest a quick sense of shame and delicacy,
they are compelled by the confessor to be more minute
and circumstantial in their narratives.^ A girl will
often try to slip her less delicate transgressions
hurriedly between two common peccadilloes, and only
accuse herself in a general way of having been '* rude "
or immodest. No confessor can allow such a general
accusation to pass ; he is bound to call her and question
her minutely on the subject ; for by some curious pro-
cess of reasoning the Church of Rome has deduced
from certain of Christ's words that the confessor,
being judge, must have a detailed knowledge of every
serious transgression before he can give absolution.
The conversation which ensues can very well be
imagined.

Finally, there is a still more cui-ious and pitiable
category of victims of the sacrament of penance. I
speak again of women, because men may be roughly
distributed into two simple classes ; the small minority
who are spiritually aided by the weekly discussion of
their fallings and temptations, and the great majority

^ Here the traditional purity of the west of Ireland maiden may
be quoted to me. But, apart from the fact that there is no such
remarkable virtue in Catholic Dublin, or still more Catholic Spain,
it is now proved that the ratio of illegitimate births in the west of
Ireland is kept down by sending tlie sinners to Glasgow, Liverpool,
or America.

THE CONFESSIONAL HI

to whom confession is a bore and a burden. The
missionary priest who travels from parish to parish is
often warned that certain women will come to confess
who must be carefully handled. These are, in various
degrees, monomaniacs of the system, and are found in
every diocese. Sometimes they have a morbid love of
denouncing priests to the bishop on a charge of solicita-
tion ; and in the hope of getting evidence they will
entangle him in the crudest conversation. Sometimes
they are women " with a history," which, in their
morbid love of the secret conversation, they urge,
freshly embroidered, upon every confessor they meet,
and make him think that he has secured a Magdalen.
Frequently they are mere novelists who deliberately
invent the most shameless stories in order to gratify
their craving for that peculiar conversation to which
they have grown accustomed in the confessional.

In this I am, of course, relying to some extent on
the larger experience of my older colleagues, but some
pitiable cases linger in my own memory. Almost one
of the first confessions which I received from a woman
was a sordid and lengthy story of a liaison with ono
of my colleagues. She assured me that she had never
told it before. When, however, after an hour of this
conversation, I returned to the house, another priest,
who had seen her leave my " box," asked me with a
laugh : " How did you get on with Clara? " (I
change the name, of course.) It appeared tliat, though
her story was probably true, slie had hawked it over
London. Others confessed that they came to con-
fession precisely on account of the sexual excitement
it gave them ; the effect was at times very perceptible.
These are exceptional, but numerous, cases ; so are the

112 THE CONFESSIONAL

cases in which the confession is a real and valued
spiritual aid. For the vast majority of Catholics it is
a burden which they would gladly avoid if the Church
did not force it on them.

This, then, is the essential, inalienable evil of the
confessional as an obligatory and universal institution.
It may not be so directly productive of gross acts as
is frequently supposed, but it has a corruptive influence
that is clear to all save those who have been familiar
with it from childhood. And yet this system, of so
grave a responsibility, has the most slender basis of all
the institutions of the Church of Rome. The reason-
ing by which it is deduced from Scripture is a master-
piece of subtlety. " Whose sins ye shall forgive they
are forgiven, and whose sins ye shall retain they are
retained," is the sole text bearing on the subject.
The Catholic method of inferring the obligation of
confession from the latter part of the text is interest-
ing, and yet very simple. The Apostles, the Church
says, have the power of retaining sin ; but if it were
possible to obtain forgiveness in any other way than
by absolution from the Apostles or their successors the
power of retaining sin would be nugatory ; therefore
there is only one way of obtaining forgiveness — by
absolution, after full confession. This argument is
strengthened by one from tradition, from the fact that,
in the fourth century, the Church claimed, against the
Novatians, the power of absolving from all sins ; but
what was meant in the fourth century by confession
and absolution is not quite clear even to Catholic
theologians, and an outsider may be excused for not
seeing the force of the argument. Certainly confession
was not then obligatory.

I

THE CONFESSIONAL 113

The fact is that, when the Church first began (in
the thirteenth century) to talk about the obligation
of confession, it had not the same critical spirit to
face whicli it has to-day. It found that a practice
had somehow developed amongst the faithful which
could be turned into a most powerful instrument, and
it proceeded to make the practice obligatory. The
newly founded religious orders were then administer-
ing their spiritual narcotics to humanity, and the law
was accepted with docility. Hence, in our own day,
when the Church must provide a more rational basis
for its tenets and institutions, the search for pi'oof of
the divine sanction of the practice is found to be more
than usually difficult to the expert interpreters of the
Church of Rome.

Apart, however, , from its feeble dogmatic defence,
it is usual for preachers and writers to expatiate upon
tlie moral advantages of the practice. Sermons on
tlie subject are very frequent, for it is well known
that many people are deterred by it from passing over
to Rome. It is urged that confession gives a certain
relief to the soul that is burdened with the conscious-
ness of sin, and that it is a great preventive of dis-
order. That a large number of the Catholics of the
higher spiritual type are helped by the weekly con-
sultation with the confessor is unquestionable. All the
saintly men and women of the Church who are uni-
versally esteemed to-day regarded the confessional as
an important aid. In fact, one often meets non-
Catholics of higii moral sensitiveness who look with
eager longing to the institution. That is certainly an
argument for the admission of quite voluntary con-
fession under circumstances of especial security, but it

114 THE CONFESSIONAL

lends no support to the Roman law of compulsory
confession.

On the other hand, the academic conclusion of the
preacher, that the confessional is a preventive of sin,.
vanishes completely before facts which are patent to
all. Catholics are neither more nor less moral than
their non-Catholic fellows in any country where they
mingle. To compare Catholic countries with Protest-
ant would be useless. London and Berlin, if we may
strike an average of conflicting opinions, are neither
better nor worse than Madrid or Rome. Paris has not
deteriorated, but rather improved, since it threw off
the yoke of the Church. Milan, largely non-Catholic,
is far more moral than Naples. Liverpool and Glasgow
are much more Catholic than Manchester or London ;
yet missionaries admit that they are more vicious.^
The truth is, that whilst the confessor can exercise a
restraining influence over his habitual penitent (as a
rule), the majority soon become so inured to the con-
fession that it fails to deter them, and a certain number
are actually encouraged to sin by the thought of the
facility of absolution. The latter point has been
strained by critics ; it is by no means a general feature.
But I have been informed by penitents on more than
one occasion that they sinned more readily under the
influence of this thought. In monastic or quasi-
monastic institutions the weekly confession to the
chaplain does exercise a degree of influence, but even

^ To meet the generally unfavourable contrast of Catholic lands
and Protestant, the Catholic apologist pretends that vice is more
easily avoided in cooler latitudes. This is ludicrous. Germany
and Italy were equal in vice before the Reformation ; Christiania
and St. Petersburg are as vicious as London : Canada is not more
virtuous than Australia.

THE CONFESSIONAL 115

here nature has its revenge. The temptation to con-
ceal and the practice of concealing are so great that
the Church prescribes that an " extraordinary con-
fessor " shall be provided every three months, and
that each monk or nun or cleric shall present himself.
In discharging that function I have not only met cases
of long concealment, as might be expected, but I have
known the inmates deliberately to indulge in the pros-
pect of my coming. All these facts must be set
against the advantages of the confession for the
spiritual elect ^ ; or, rather, they show that, whatever
may be thought of confession in the abstract, the law
of obligatory confession is a grave moral blunder. I
have heard confessions in very many parts of England
and abroad ; I have read much casuistic literature that
is permeated with confessional experience ; I have con-
ferred on the subject with missionaries who have heard
hundreds of tliousands of confessions, and I am con-
vinced that the majority of Catholics are unaffected
by the confessional. They are bound to confess once
every year ; if they wish to pass as men of ordinary
piety they confess every month or oftener ; but in the
whirligig of life the confessional is forgotten, and has
no influence whatever on their morality.

That the institution is a source of great power to
the Churcli at large is easily understood : it creates a
vast gulf between clergy and laity, and considerably
accentuates the superiority of the former. But to a
large number of individual priests the function is very
distasteful. Apart from the obvious unpleasantness of

' I have dwelt more fully on these advantages, and said all that
can be ur^^od in favour of confcs.sion, in my " Cliurch Discipline:
an Ethical Study of the Church of Koine," ch. iv.

116 THE CONFESSIONAL

the task, it is much more fatiguing than would be
supposed. Three or four hours' continuous hearing I
have found very exhausting, and a missionary has fre-
quently to spend seven or eight hours a day in the
box. Still there are many priests who show a great
liking for the work, and they will sit for hours in their
boxes waiting — one could not help comparing them to
patient spiders — for the arrival of penitents.

The obligation of confessing commences at the age
of seven years, and is incumbent upon every member
of the Church, clergy and laity alike, even on the
Pope, who has a simple, harmless Franciscan friar
serving him in that capacity. The theory is that the
obligation of confessing commences when the possi-
bility of contracting grave sin is first developed, and
in the eyes of the Church of Rome the average child
of seven is capable of meriting eternal damnation by
its acts. Needless to say, the confession of tlie average
child of seven or eight is a farce. The children used
to be conducted to us from the schools every three
months, after a careful drilling from their teachers,
but scarcely one child in ten had the faintest glimmer-
ing of an idea of the nature of absolution. Few of
them could even be sufficiently instructed to fulfil the
material part of the ceremony ; they mixed the various
parts of the formulae in the most unintelligible fashion,
and generally wished to retreat before they had
received the essential object of their coming —
absolution.

The method of the ceremony is described in any
Roman Catholic prayer-book. The penitent first
kneels for ten or fifteen minutes in the church and,
with the aid of the minute catalogue of sins in his

THE CONFESSIONAL 117

book, recalls his transgressions since his last confession.
Entering the box, and usually asking the priest's bless-
ing, he states the occasion of his last confession, so
that the confessor may form a correct estimate of his
sinfulness. He then states his faults, the number of
times he has committed each, and any aggravating
circumstances ; if the confessor is not satisfied, he
questions him and elicits further details. Then pre-
mising, as a rule, a few words of exhortation or re-
proof, he imposes a penance and dismisses him Avith
absolution, after an act of sorrow and a promise to
amend. According to Catholic doctrine the act of
sorrow and the " purpose of amendment " are the vital
and essential elements of the ceremony. The utter-
ing of the formula by the priest — every Catholic is
told repeatedly — is entirely useless unless the contri-
tion and good resolve are present. This shows that
the Cliurch itself has not a mechanical conception of
the confession ; but it must be added that, in practice,
the ordinary Catholic does constantly tend to rely on
just such a conception of the mechanical efficacy of
the rite. No money is ever exacted or received for
absolution. The stories circulated by travellers of lists
of prices of absolution seen in Continental churches
are entirely devoid of foundation.^ Further, an " in-

* I leave this in the text, bnt must add that I have since been
credibly informed of lists hanf;iiiK in Canadian churches which set
a price on sin. But I gather that this was not the price of absolu-
tion, but of an indulgence (reiiiission of jiurj^atorial punishment)
roughly adapted to various sins. The Catholic believes that,
although absolution relieves him of the fear of hell, he has still the
fires of Purgatory to face. Alms ami good works may redu<'e his
liability to this, and the lists in question, sordid as tliey are, may
be merely suggestions of what amount of alms may trust to clear
the penalty of sins. Third cdilii/a.

118 THE CONFESSIONAL

dulgence " has no reference whatever to future sin,
but is a remission of the purgatorial punishment due
for sin committed, and already substantially forgiven
by absolution, which the Church of Rome claims the
jx)wer to give. That indulgences are still practically
sold cannot be denied : not that a written indulgence
is now ever handed over for so much hard cash ^ — such
bargains have proved too disastrous to the Church — but
papal blessings, richly-indulgenced crosses and rosaries,
&c., are well-known rewards of the generous alms-giver.
In Tyndall's " Sound " a curious instance is men-
tioned of a church in which certain acoustic peculi-
arities enabled the listener at a distant point to hear
the whispers in the confessional; it is said that a
husband in this way heard his ovra wife's confession.
Such contingencies are foreseen and provided for in
tiieological works. The seal of confession applies not
only to the priest, but to every person who comes to
a knowledge of confessional matter. It happens some-
times that the penitents waiting outside overhear the
words of priest or penitent, especially when one or
other is a little deaf. At a church in Manchester,

^ Once more I don the white sheet— so little does even the priest
know of Catholicism in Catholic lands. I have before me four
indulgences which were bought in Spain for fifty, seventy-five and
105 eentimos each in the year 1902, and they bear that date. ' The
Archbishop of Toledo issues millions of these every year, and
money alone secures them. The Chiu-ch calls the money an abns
(to Itself), and the indulgence a reward of the alms. One of these
infamous papers is known in Spain as " the thieves' bula." It is
the most expensive of the four (about Is. ). It assures the thief
that, if he does not know the name of the owner of the ill-gotten
property he has, the Church allows him to keep it in consideration
of this alms. For valuable property large sums have to be paid.
Third edition.

THE CONFESSIONAL 119

one bus}^ Saturday evening, the priest interrupted his
labours to inquire the object of a scuffle outside his
box. There was a quarrel — not uncommon — about
precedence amongst the mixed crowd that waited their
turn at the door. A boy was complaining of being
deprived of his legitimate place, and when the priest's
head appeared he exclaimed, " Please, father, I was
next to the woman who stole the silk umbrella!"
And in my young days I remember that, on one occa-
sion, when we had been conducted to church for the
purpose of confessing, we who were waiting our turn
were startled to hear our stolid elderly confessor cry
out, repeating with horrified emphasis some statement
of his youthful penitent, " Eighty-three times! " We
knew little about the seal in those days, and the boy
did not grudge us the joke we had against him for
many a day.

The " penance " which is inflicted usually consists
of a few prayers. Corporal penances are now unknown
outside of country districts in Spain or Italy (where
one may still see a girl kneeling in chapel with a
pointed reference to the seventh commandment pinned
to her back), and even long and frequently repeated
prayer is not now imposed in England or the States ;
the Irish peasant may be ordered to say daily for
months the seven penitential psalms. I soon found,
from the number of people who accused themselves of
neglecting their penance, how useless it was to impose
burdens ; those who did not curtail it hurried through
it with precipitate haste. For it is customary to kneel
and say the penance immediately after the confession,
and as there are some scores of idle witnesses, calculat-
ing the severity of the penance from the time expended

120 THE CONFESSIONAL

on it, and thence inferring the gravity of the sin,
brevity is a feature of some importance. Hence I
never imposed more than five or six Pater Nosters.
On one occasion I imposed the usual " Four Hail
Marys " on a quiet, unofTending old priest. He was
slightly deaf, and, changing his posture of deep
humility, he looked up at me indignantly, exclaiming
"Forty Hail Marys! "

Short penances were not the only deviation from
our theological rules which I allowed myself; I soon
abandoned the hateful practice of interrogating on
malodorous subjects. At first when I heard a general
accusation I merely asked whether the morbidity in
question was serious or not (for if it were not serious
there was no obligation to interrogate). I was, how-
ever, so indignantly repulsed when the lady did
happen to have a lighter debt that I was compelled
to resort to the usual dialogue. It was not long
before I entirely abandoned the practice, and simply
allowed my penitents to say what they thought neces-
sary. The Church imposes on the priest the obliga-
tion of cross-examining under pain of mortal sin, so
that I do not doubt that some of my perplexed
colleagues will see in that " sin " the reason of the
withdrawal of the light of faith from me. However,
the institution had become repulsive to me, and I
eagerly embraced an opportunity of escaping from it
and other ministerial work by a course of study at
Lou vain University. There came a year when our
studies were disorganised, and I had no students for
philosophy. I gladly accepted an invitation to go and
study oriental languages at Lou vain.

CHAPTER VII

A YEAR AT LOUVAIN

LouvAiN University is the principal Roman Catholic
university in the north of Europe. Nominally it is
a centre of hinjher Catholic instruction for all the
northern countries, including, until a recent date, the
United States. However it is, in point of fact, little
more than a national institution. The patriotic
Germans naturally prefer their own vigorous, though
less venerable, University of Innspruck. Britons and
Americans have always been represented in its colleges
very sparsely, for they had been usually attracted to
the fountain-head, to Rome, in their thirst for higher
doctrine. Now America has its great Washington
University, and English Catholicism has brought to
an end its self-imposed banishment from Oxford and
Cambridge. English ecclesiastics will, no doubt, con-
tinue to be sent into a more Catholic atmosj)here
abroad, and will continue to prefer Spain or Italy to
Belgium. Still, Louvain could boast many nation-
alities amongst its 1600 students.

The long struggle between Catholicism and Liberal-
ism in Belgium has had the effect of isolating Louvain
as a distinctivel}' Catholic university. The clerical
party naturally concentrated upon it, with its long
tradition of orthodoxy and its roll of illustrious names,

121

122 A YEAR AT LOUVAIN

and determined to exclude the liberalising tendencies
which had either mastered, or threatened to master,
the universities of Brussels, Ghent, &c. The control
is exclusively clerical, both rector and vice-rector being
high ecclesiastical dignitaries, and every orthodox
family with a care for the correct training of its sons
is expected to send them to Lou vain.

But Louvain is by no means merely a centre for
clerical training. Belgian Catholicism has fallen much
too low to realise so ambitious a dream. During the
year I spent there — 1893-94 — there were not more
than fifty clerical students out of the 1600. Ecclesi-
astical studies were, therefore, working at a dead loss,
for the theological staff was numerous and distin-
guished. The greater part of the students were in
law or medicine, though there were also sections for
engineering, brewery, and other technical branches.
Moreover, the university suffered from the presence of
a rival clerical establishment in the same town — con-
ducted, of course, by the Jesuits. The Jesuits, the
" thundering legion " of the ecclesiastical army, have
one weakness from a disciplinary point of view ; they
never co-operate. " Aut CjEsar aut nullus " is their
motto whenever they take the field. And so at Lou-
vain, after, it is said, a long and fruitless effort to
secure the monopoly of the university itself, they have
erected a splendid and efficient college, in which the
lectures are thrown open to outsiders, and from which
a brilliant student is occasionally sent to throw down
his glove to the university, to defend thirty or forty
theses against the united phalanx of veteran professors.
The Dominicans have also a large international college
in the town, and the American bishops a fourth, in

A YEAR AT LOU VAIN 123

which European volunteers for the American missions
are trained. The rivalry which results, although it
does occasionally overflow the channel of fraternal
charity, helps to sustain the vitality of the Belgian
Church, and turns its attention from the rapid growth
of Rationalism and Socialism.

One difference between the Belgian and the English
system is that few of the students live in the colleges,
scattered at intervals over the town, which form the
university. These are usually only lecture halls, with
their attendant rooms and museums; the students live
in the houses of the townspeople, for the town exists
merely for the accommodation of the university. The
vice-president keeps a record of all houses and the
addresses of the students, but the supervision is slight,
and tlie liberty of the students great. A second and most
important difference from English or American uni-
versity life lies in the complete absence of athleticism.
The Belgians are entirely averse to muscular exertion
of any kind. I saw very little cycling, no cricket, no
football, no rowing — nothing more active than skittles
during the wliole jjcriod ; for "beer and skittles" is
niucli more than a figurative ideal to the Belgians.
Their free time, and they are not at all a studious
race, is mainly sjjent in tlie estaminets, or beer houses;
and, like German students, they consume enormous
quantities of their national beverage and smoke
unceasingly.

The ethical result of such a mode of life may be
deduced from general physiological laws. The " rector
magnificus " was a very able and estimable man, but
of a retiring and studious character; the vicc-rcctor,
Mgr. Cartuyvels, was, however, an active and zealous

124 A YEAR AT LOUVAIN

disciplinarian, and, by means of a wide system of
espionnage, he was tolerably acquainted with the con-
dition of affairs. Still he was powerless to stem an
inevitable tide, and indeed it was said that he was
afraid to enforce his authority too sternly, lest he
should drive more Catholics to the Liberal universities.
The religion of the students did not seem to be of a
much higher quality than their conduct. I was in-
formed by a Louvain priest that at least 500 out of
the 1500 did not attend mass on Sundays; and such
attendance is obligatory and a test of communion in
the Church of Rome. Like that of so many of our
Irish neighbours in England, their faith needs the
stimulus of a row or a riot over religious questions to
bring it to consciousness. Once the Liberals or the
Socialists fill the street with their anti-clerical, " A
bas la calotte," the students are found to be Catholic
to a man. Apart from these uncanonical, though not
infrequent, ebullitions their piety is Uttle exhibited.

The clerical students, who usually live in the
colleges, are priests who have distinguished them-
selves in their ordinary theological course, and who
have been sent by their respective bishops to graduate
in theology, philosophy, or canon law. Few of them
see the full term of a university career, as their bishops
are compelled by financial and other pressure, if not
by reports of the examiners, to withdraw them pre-
maturely to the active work of the diocese. The suc-
cessful student secures his licentiate at the end of the
third year, and his bachelorship at the end of the
fourth. He then ceases to follow the public lectures
at the halls, and spends two years at the study of his
subject, under the guidance of his late professor.

A YEAR AT LOUVAIN 125

During that time he must write a Latin treatise on
any theme he chooses. Finally, in the great hall,
before a numerous audience, he wins his cap by
defending a score of theses against the professors and
any ecclesiastic who cares to oppose him. As every
religious order, and consequently every school of
philosophy and theology, is formidably represented in
the town, very lively scenes are sometimes witnessed
during the discussion of the theses. Certain contro-
versies have had to be practically excluded from the list
of debatable questions in order to avoid an undignified
delay of the proceedings by the Dominicans and Jesuits
in the gallery. The success of the student is, however,
practically guaranteed by the mere fact of his presenta-
tion by a professor. The whole system differs little
from what it was in medieval Louvain, and the divorce
between modern Belgian culture and the Belgian
Church is thus fooUshly maintained by the clergy
themselves.

The programme of clerical study at the university
is identical in form with that of the seminaries, but
the questions are treated more profoundly and ex-
haustively. Only one treatise is taken each year.
Each question is thoroughly discussed, and subsidiary
(lucslions are treated which are crushed out of the
briefer elementary course. It is like passing from
Huxley's "Elements of Physiology" to the more
exiiaustive work of Kirk or Carjjcnter on the same
subject. Then the philosopher has the advantage of
attending, with the medical students, scientific courses
under men who are eminent in their respective sciences
(which, however, he rarely docs), and a few of the
students of theology and Scripture attend lectures in

126 A YEAR AT LOUVAIN

the Oriental languages under equally distinguished pro-
fessors. In addition to these there are courses of
Persian, Sanscrit, Chinese, &c., and courses of the
higher literature of most European languages, and of
Eatin and Greek classics. There is, however, no
degree corresponding to the English M.A., and literary
studies are greatly neglected. All the clerical students
are intended by their bishops to become professors in
their seminaries, and, in addition to their degree in
theology, they are directed to follow the particular
course which will benefit them. Still a spirit of
narrow utilitarianism pervades all ranks. The lay-
students have a definite profession in view and have
no superfluous industry to devote to other studies ; the
priests think of little else besides their theology or
philosophy. There are a few disinterested worshippers
at the shrine of philosophy and letters, but their num-
ber is comparatively small. The course of Sanscrit and
Chinese ascribed to the distinguished student of those
(and many other) languages, Mgr. de Harlez, seems to
have a mythical existence. Persian is never demanded,
and even Arabic (though the professor is an Arabic
scholar of the first rank) is rarely taken. Hebrew
must be studied by aspirants for theological degrees,
but Syriac has few scholars. There were three of us
who took the Syriac course in 1893, and of the three two
were mendicant friars who paid no fee. It will appear
presently that we received little more than we gave.

I was requested by my superior to follow the course
of Hebrew under M. Van Hoonacker, and, taking
advantage of the temporary interruption of my lectures
on philosophy, I made my way to the monastery of
our order at I^ouvain. I added a course of Syriac (in

A YEAR AT LOUVAIN 127

virtue of which I hoped to disturb my Anglican
brethren over the Peschito version of the New Testa-
ment), an elementary course of biblical criticism, and
an advanced course of scholastic philosophy.

The lectures on Hebrew and on bibUcal criticism
were given by M. Van Hoonacker, an effective teacher
and erudite scholar, who crossed swords (with more
courage than success) with the great Kuenen. An
abler professor of Hebrew we could not have had, and
even in handling the delicate questions raised by the
Higher Criticism he displayed much wealth of know-
ledge, a generous acquaintance with the writings of
his opponents (Wellhausen, Kuenen, &c.), and much
argumentative power. The subject marked on the
programme was an introduction to the canon of Scrip-
ture; it was based upon the work of M. Loisy, and
ran upon the traditional lines. But he quickly ex-
hausted that subject and hastened to his favourite
topic, the discussion, against Wellhausen, of the origin
of the Jewish festivals. Of erudition he gave abund-
ant proof, and he showed not a little ingenuity in
research and in the grouping of arguments ; but it was
obvious that few of the students had any large view
of the general issues at stake. All scribbled rapidly
as the professor spoke (for we had no manual), and
endeavoured to gather as much detailed information as
would suffice for examination purposes.

In i)rlvate intercourse I found him extremely kind
and courteous, and he frequently spoke to me of tlie
difficulty of his position as professor of biblical criti-
cism, when the Church left us without any clearly
defined doctrine about the nature and extent of in-
spiration in face of modern rationalism : he did not

128 A YEAR AT LOUVAIN

appreciate the liberty of thought which the Church
wisely grants until secular science has reached its high-
water mark and it knows what it can decide with
security. The Pope's encyclical had not yet appeared,
but I know that, as a theologian and an expert, he
would have little internal respect for it.

The professor of Syriac (and of some parts of
Scripture) was a man of a very different type. He
was a very old man, Mgr. Lamy, a distinguished
Syriac scholar, but a poor teacher, and one whose
opinions on biblical questions were of the older days.
Like M. Van Hoonacker, he took the first chapter of
Genesis as a subject for translation, and devoted more
time to his commentaries on the text than to its
Syriac construction. The contrast was instructive.
On the Monday morning we had the Hebrew pro-
fessor's advanced and semi-rationahstic commentary,
resolving the famous chapter into myths and allegories ;
the following morning, from the same pulpit, Mgr.
Lamy religiously anathematised all that we had heard,
and gave the Uteral interpretation so dear to the
earlier generation. He was kind and earnest, but his
method of teaching was so unfortunate that, after
receiving one lecture a week for nine months, we knew
little more than the Syriac alphabet. Toward the end
of the term he startled us by commanding us to pre-
pare for the next lecture a translation of a dozen lines
of Syriac without vowel points ! The sequel unhap-
pily illustrates the average Flemish character as I met
it among the clergy. We were three in number in the
course, and it was my turn to read at the next lecture.
But my companions, fearful of their own turn, endeav-
oured to persuade me not to attempt such a preposter-

A YEAR AT LOUVAIN 129

ous task. By dint of great exertion I copied out the
translation of the passage and brought it to lecture on
the following Tuesday, when my companion, a Flemish
priest, snatched the paper from my hand and tore it
in pieces.

The third professor whose lectures I followed, Mgr.
Mercier, was a gentleman of refined and sympathetic
character, and one of the ablest living exponents of
Catholic philosophy. To a perfect knowledge of the
scholastic philosophy he added a wide acquaintance
witli physical science (which can rarely be affirmed of
the scholastic metaphysician) and a very fair estimate
of modern rival schools of philosophy. Instead of
wasthig time on the absurd controversies of the
medieval schools he made a continuous effort to face
the deep metaphysical criticism of the German and
EngUsh systems ; with what success may be judged
from his numerous writings on philosophical questions.
During the year I attended, he took " Criteriology "
as iiis subject ; he considered it the most important
section of philosophy in these days when, after 2000
years of faith, the Neo- Academic cry, " What is
trutli? " has revived in such earnest.

Unfortunately tlie modern sophist finds little earn-
est and disinterested attention, even in universities ;
modern students of the great science are widely re-
moved from tlie restless zeal of Athens or Alexandria
or medieval Paris. Mgr. Mercier is, moreover, bur-
dened with an obligation to adhere to the teaching of
St. Thomas, almost the least critical of the medieval
theologians, but the present favourite at Rome. How-
ever, the Vatican keeps a jealous eye on I.ouvain since
tlie outbreak of heterodoxy under the famous Ubaghs

130 A YEAR AT LOUVAIN

some thirty years ago. It is still under the suspicion
of Cartesianism in a mild form, but that is only a
matter of concern to Jesuits and other philosophical
rivals.

I experienced much kindness from Mgr. Mercier.
Like most of the Walloons, he is more refined and
sensitive than the Fleming usually is. Belgium is
made up of two radically distinct and hostile races.
The southern half is occupied by a French-speaking
people (with a curious native Walloon language) whose
characteristics are wholly French ; while the northern
race, the Flemings, are decidedly Teutonic, very
hospitable, painfully candid and communicative, but
usually coarse, material, and unsympathetic. The two
races are nearly as hostile as the French and Germans
whom they respectively resemble (though, I think,
neither French nor Germans admit the affinity — the
Germans have a great contempt for the Flemings).
Louvain or Leuven is in Flemish territory, and Mgr.
Mercier, justly suspecting that I was not at ease with
my Teutonic brethren, offered to establish me in his
own house, but my monastic regulations forbade it.
Both through him and the other professors I have the
kindest recollection of the university, from which,
however, I was soon recalled.

A secondary object of my visit to Belgium Avas the
opportunity it afforded of studying monastic life in
all the tranquillity and fulness of development which
it enjoys in a Catholic country. In England it was
impossible to fulfil many of our obligations to the
letter. It is a firm decree of a monastic order that the
religious costume must never be laid aside. But it is
still decreed in English law that any person wearing

A YEAR AT LOUVAIN 131

a monastic habit in the public streets shall be im-
prisoned; and, although the law has become a dead
letter, experiment has shown the practice to be at-
tended with grave inconveniences. Again, the Fran-
ciscan constitutions strictly forbid collective or indi-
vidual ownership, and even the mere phjrsical contact
of money; but English law does not recognise the
pecuhar effects of a vow of poverty, and Englisli rail-
way companies and others are unwilling to accejjt a
note from a religious superior instead of the coin of
the realm, as the Belgian railways do. In a Roman
Catholic country, at least in Belgium, the friars have
full liberty to translate their evangelical ideas into
active life. I had heard that the Belgian province
was a perfect model of monastic life, and, as I had
vague dreams of helping F. David in his slowly
maturing plan to reform our English houses, I desired
to study it attentively.

I soon learned that perfection consisted, in their
view, very largely of a mechanical and lifeless disci-
pline. Much stress was laid on the exact observance
of the letter of the constitutions, which we English
friars greatly neglected. In most of the monasteries
the friars arose at midnight for Office, rigorously
observed all the fasts, would not touch a sou with a
shovel, never laid aside their religious habit, and never
interfered in secular business. They felt themselves,
therefore, at a sufficient altitude to look down com-
I)assionately on our l-Lnglish province, and tliey were
sincerely astonished when a general of the order, the
shrewd and gifted F. Bernardine, quite failed to
a|)prc(iatc their excellent condition on the occasion of
a visit from Rome. In point of fact, the province is

132 A YEAR AT LOU VAIN

infected with the idle, intriguing, and materiaUstic
spirit which is too notoriously associated with monasti-
cism when it is not under the constant pressure and
supervision o£ heretics and unbelievers.

Their hteral fulfilment of the vow of poverty in
these unsympathetic times leads to curious compUca-
tions. In the primitive iimocence of the order (its
first ten years) the vow of poverty impUed that all
the houses, clothing, &c., that were given to the friars
remained the property of the donors ; that money was
on no account to be received for their labours; and
that all food was to be begged in kind. In the course
of time the paternal solicitude of the Pope helped
them out of difficulties by declaring that whatever was
given to the friars became /us— the Pope's— property.
He also instructed them to appoint a layman as syndic
to each of the monasteries, who should undertake (in
the Pope's name, not that of the friars) the financial
and legal matters which the letter of the rule forbade
the frtars to undertake; gradually, too, brothers of
the third order, who make no vow of poverty, were
introduced into the friaries as servants, and a superior
could thus always have a treasurer at hand.

In England the friars never troubled either syndic
or lay-brother. Once a quarter the syndic, or " papa,"
was invited to the friary to sign the books, but the
friars were careful to choose some religious-minded
man whose trust was larger than his curiosity. I
remember the consternation that once fell on the Man-
chester friary, which was far from ascetic, when the
syndic they had indiscreetly chosen asked that the
books might be sent to him to study before he signed.
The bill for spirits would have surprised him, if he

A YEAR AT LOU VAIN 133

had insisted on seeing the accounts. The superior of
each of our English monasteries had his safe and his
bank account, no priest ever went out with an empty
pocket, and the authorities made contracts (from which
the Pope's name is wisely excluded) and went to law
like every other modern Christian. In Belgium the
scheme of holy poverty as modified by the Popes
(which would have pained Francis of Assisi) is followed
out faithfully. All food is sent in in kind by the
surrounding peasantry except, usually, meat and beer,
which are bought through the syndic. A lay-brother
is constantly wandering about the country begging
provisions for the friars, and the response is generous
both in quantity and quality. The brown habit is
sure to elicit sympathy, especially in the form of liquid,
and even the railway officials accept a note from the
friary when a ticket is necessary. I have travelled all
over Belgium, visiting Brussels, Waterloo, &c., as com-
fortably as a tourist, without touching a centime from
one end of the year to the other.

Their monasteries, too, bear the visible stamp of
their voluntary poverty. Linen is never seen in them,
on tables (except on high festivals), on beds, or on the
persons of the friars ; and another point on which they
imitate the apostle St. James is that they rigorously
deny themselves the luxury of a bath — for the reason,
apparently, that was given by the French nun to the
English girl who asked why she was not allowed to
take a bath at the pensionnat: " Le bon Dieu vous
verrait! " Gas is not admitted; and, worst of all,
they think it incumbent on them to reproduce in their
friaries the primitive sanitary arrangements of the
neighbouring cottages. Our lavatory, too, was fitted
F

134 A YEAR AT LOUVAIN

up with archaic severity. A dirty battered zinc
trough ran along under a row of carefully assorted
taps, and into these the water had to be pumped every
three minutes. There were no hand-basins, there was
no hot water, and neither comb nor brush ; and only
a tub of black soft soap was provided for our ablutions.
Some of the friars made use, in the absence of basins,
of vessels which must be left to the reader's imagina-
tion. I have seen this done, from force of habit, even
in England.

The fasts were rigorously observed ; though, as it
is a widespread custom both in France and Belgium
not to breakfast before midday, the friars suffered
little inconvenience by this. At the same time the
feasts were celebrated with a proportionate zeal. On
an ordinary feast-day, which occurs once or twice
every month, the friars would sit for three hours or
more, sipping their wine, talking, chaffing, quarrelling,
long after the dinner had disappeared. Extraordinary
feasts would be celebrated with the enthusiasm of
schoolboys. There would be banquets of a most
sumptuous character, with linen tablecloths, flowers,
and myriads of glasses ; wine in abundance and of
excellent quaUty ; music, instrumental and vocal ;
dramatic, humorous, and character sketches. In the
larger convents, where there are about thirty priests
and forty or fifty students, there was plenty of musical
talent, and concerts would sometimes be prepared for
weeks in advance in honour of a jubilee or similar
festival; and every priest had his circle of " quasels "
— pious admirers and penitents of the gentler sex — ■
who undertook the culinary honours of his festival.

The quantity of beer and claret which they consume

A YEAR AT LOU VAIN 135

is enormous, yet I saw no excesses in that direction;
their capacity, however, is astonishing, and there are
few of them wlio do not kindle at the prospect of an
extra pint of beer or of a bottle of red wine. The
youngest novices take three pints of beer per day, for
they take no tea in the afternoon, and they soon learn
to look out for every opportunity of an extra pint.
Spirits are forbidden, though a few of the elders who
have been on the EngUsh mission have developed a
taste for whisky. They tell a curious story in con-
nection with it in one of their monasteries. An Eng-
lish visitor had smuggled over a bottle for a lay-brother
whom he had known in former years. Later in the
afternoon the lay-brother and one of his comrades
were missing from Vespers. After a long search they
were at length discovered in one of the workshops in
a profound slumber, with the half-empty bottle and
all the materials of punch on a table beside them. At
Louvain the friars had been forced to build a special
entrance to the monastery for the introduction of their
beer, as a censorious Liberal lived opposite the great
gate, and kept a malicious account of the barrels im-
ported. One of the most anxious concerns of a superior
is his wine-cellar, for he knows well that his chance
of re-election is closely connected with it. On one
occasion, when I had asked why a certain young friar
seemed to be a popular candidate for the highest posi-
tion before an election, I was told with a smile that
** his brother was a wine merchant." Wherever I
went in Belgium, to monasteries, nunneries, or private
houses, I found that teetotalism was regarded as a
disease whose characteristic microbe was indigenous to
the Brilisli Isles.

F 2

136 A YEAR AT LOUVAIN

The first unfavourable impression I made upon my
hosts was by my unintelligible refusal to drink. We
arrived at Ghent for dinner, and after dinner (vpith
the usual pint of strong ale) four of us sat down to
five or six bottles of good claret. I drew the line at
the sixth glass, and at once attracted as much sus-
picion as a " water-bibber" of ancient Greece or Rome.
At three o'clock a second pint of strong ale had to be
faced, and at seven a third; when wine re-appeared
after that I violently protested, and I never recovered
their good opinion. Thirst seems to be a national
affliction, for even the peasant women sometimes have
drinking matches (of coffee) at their village fairs, and
the first or second prize has more than once fallen a
victim to her cafeine intemperance. It is interesting
to note that few of the friars preserve any mental
vigour up to their sixtieth year, and that great
numbers fall victims to apoplexy.

There are no congregations attached to the friaries,
so that their work differs materially from that of
EngUsh priests. In fact, their life is the typical
monastic life, for, as has been explained, canon law
prescribes that monastic houses should only be con-
sidered as auxiliaries of the regular clergy. The first
result, however, is usually a conflict with the priest
in whose parish the monks establish themselves, as
they attract his parishioners to their services; and
they rarely find much favour with the bishop of the
diocese. They hear great numbers of confessions,
principally of the surrounding peasantry, and have
frequent ceremonies in their churches, but, as there
are usually so many friars, the work occupies little
time. The only work of importance which they do

A YEAR AT LOUVAIN 137

is to preach special sermons and give missions in dis-
tant parishes, but even that is httle in proportion to
their vast numbers. One meets amongst them many
earnest and devout men who are never idle for a
moment, but the majority lead the most dull and
inactive and useless lives.

At Louvain there were nine priests and hardly
sufficient work to occupy the time of four. There
was one earnest exemplary friar, who was constantly
and usefully occupied ; another, equally earnest, would
exhaust himself one fortnight and recuperate the next ;
the remainder led a life of most unenviable inaction.
Some, under one pretext or another, did absolutely
nothing from one end of the week to the other. They
were no students ; in fact, most of them were grossly
ignorant, and their large library was practically unused.
In summer they would lounge in the garden or bask
at the windows of their cells until the bell rang out
the next signal for some vapid religious exercise ; in
winter they would crowd round their stove, and discuss
the daily paper or some point of ritual or casuistry,
eager as children for the most trivial distraction.

In fact, between idleness and eccentricity, many of
them had developed most extraordinary manias. One
of our priests, a venerable old friar whose only
sacerdotal duties consisted in blessing babies and
giving the peasants recipes (prayers) for diseased
cattle, had succeeded in getting himself appointed as
assistant cook. His gluttony was the standard joke of
the community ; his meals were prodigious. Another
friar devoted liis time to the solution of the problem
of perpetual motion; another had designed a cycle
whicli was to outrun any in the market, if lie could

138 A YEAR AT LOU VAIN

devise a brake capable of stopping it when in motion ;
another explained to me a system of the universe which
he had constructed (from certain texts of Genesis) to
the utter and final overthrow of materialism. He had
explained it to several professors of science, who had
admitted its force in silence, and I found myself in
the same predicament. Some took to mending clocks,
of which they had a number in their cells, others to
painting, others to gardening, others to making col-
lections of little pictures of the Virgin or St. Joseph,
or of miraculous statues. Few of them spent any
large proportion of their time in what even a Catholic
would consider the service of humanity.

The little knowledge they possessed was usually con-
fined to liturgy and casuistry. Not being parish
priests they had not the advantage of daily visits
amongst the laity, which is the only refining influence
and almost the only stimulus to education of a celibate
clergy ; and the little preaching and ministerial work
they were entrusted with, lying almost exclusively
amongst the poor, did not demand any serious thought
or study. There are always a few ripe scholars amongst
them — very few at the present time — but the majority
profess to base their undisguised aversion for study on
the letter and spirit of their constitutions ; and not
without reason, though "they forget that the age to
which that rule was adapted has passed for ever.
There is no pressure upon them, yet their ordinary
studies make little impression on them, and, though
the Catholic university opens its halls gratis to them,
they only reluctantly allow one or two of their students
to enter it each year. To graduate they regard as an
unpardonable conceit for a monk, and I was therefore

A YEAR AT LOUVAIN 1S&>

not permitted to take the degree of Ph.D. to which mv
studies entitled me.

Their complete ignorance of philosophy led them to
take a superfluous interest in my welfare, and gave
me a small idea of the way in which Roger Bacons
are victimised. Mgr. Mercier had sent me Paul Janet's
*' Causes Finales " to read, and whilst I was doing
so one of the elder friars came to glance at the title
of my book. He considered it for some moments in
perplexity, and at length exclaimed : " Tiens ! la cause
finale, c'est la mort ! " I offered no correction, and
he went to acquaint the others, as usual. Then one
of the younger friars, the scholar of the community,
recollected that he had read somewhere that Janet
was " chef de I'ecole spiritualiste " in France, and,
nobody knowing the difference betwen spiritism and
spiritualism, it was agreed that I was exploring the
questionable region of spooks. When Mgr. Mercier
went on to lend me the works of Schopenhauer (and
they had looked up the name in the encyclopjjedia) there
was serious question of breaking off my intercourse
with liim and writing to England of my suspected
tendencies. Happily, I was in a position to treat them
with indifference, for I was neither their subject nor
their guest. They were paid (by my mass fees) for
my maintenance — which cost them nothing — and even'
my books, clothing, bedding, &c., had to be paid for
from England. Englishmen, in their eyes, are
proverbially proud ; I was credited with an inordinate
share of that British virtue.

At present ihcy are making strenuous efforts to re-
organise and improve their scheme of study. One or
tv.o earnest men are striving to lift the burden whicK

140 A YEAR AT LOUVAIN

is oppressing them, and possibly time will bring an
improvement; though it can only be by a sacrifice in
point of numbers which all are unwilUng to make.
The two points in which the glory of the fraternity is
thought to consist are the maintenance of a perfect
formal discipline and the increase of members. The
Belgian friars are wrongly endeavouring to secure both
points at once. They have built recently a large pre-
paratory college, which is always crowded with aspir-
ants. But when I asked one of the Belgian friars, in
an unguarded moment, whence the aspirants came, he
answered with a shrug of his shoulders : " They have
swept up the rubbish of the streets " ; and another
explained that their training was deeply vitiated by
espionnage and by an injudicious system of rewards

and punishments. Whatever may be their future

and so long as Socialism is kept in check they have
every favourable condition— it is quite clear that any
serious attempt to purify, to vitalise and spirituahse
their fraternity, will meet bitter opposition, and will,
if successful, considerably reduce their numbers. No
large body of men will ever again sincerely adopt an
ascetical spirit in their common life. And the Belgian
fraternity will be healthier and happier for the re-
mainder of its days if it can rid itself of all its malades
imaginaires, lazy pietists, crass sensualists, and
ambitious office-seekers.

• • .

Belgium is claimed as a Roman Catholic country,
and it may be interesting to discuss the extent and
nature of its fidelity to Rome in the light of my
inquiries and observations. I had many and intimate
opportunities for studying it, and I availed myself of

A YEAR AT LOUVAIN 141

them carefully; not only because I took a speculative
interest in the question, but on account of the dis-
paraging references that the friars made repeatedly to
my own heretical country—" your unhappy country "
was their usual description of England. When I
noticed in the list of Peter's-pence offerings that
Belgium had collected for his Holiness only 200 000
lire, and England 1,200,000, I felt there was occasion
tor careful inquiry.

Pontics and religion are so confused in Belgium
that the rehgious status of the country has been
roughly indicated at every election. For many years
there has been a fierce struggle between LiberaUsn,
and Catholicism, in which the orthodox party has been
frequently overpowered; and Liberahsm, as is well
known, is the anti-clerical, free-thought party. It is
roughly speaking, the bourgeoisie of Belgium (with a
sprinkling of the higher and of the industrial class),
permeated with Voltaireanism and modern rationalism •
Its motto was Gambetta's " Le clericaUsme, voila
l^ennemi or as the Belgian mob puts it more forcibly
A bas la calotte! " Not that it was at all a philo-
sophical sect; it was purely active, but accepted the
conclusions of the philosophers and the critics as
honestly as the orthodox clung to the conclusions of
the theologian In any case it was bitterly opposed
to the estabUshed religion and the dominion of the
clergy on every issue. The aristocracy, for obvious
reasons, indolently sided with the Church- the
peasantry, on the whole, remained faithful out of' brute
stolidity and impcrviousness to argument.

But during the last few years there has l,cen a pro-
found change in the field as Socialism gained power

142 A YEAR AT LOU VAIN

and character. Not very many years ago a young
advocate at the Brussels CathoUc conference declared
himself a Christian socialist, and was emphatically
suppressed by the clerical and aristocratic members ;
now, if it were not for Christian Socialism, Rome
would soon lose its hold of the peasantry. Socialism,
avowedly anti-Christian as it is on the Continent, has
:secured the industrial classes and is undoubtedly mak-
ing progress amongst the peasantry. However, it can-
not join forces with waning Liberalism, for it hates
and is hated by the bourgeoisie ; and it has had the
effect of arousing the monarchy and aristocracy to some
sense of their danger. Thus the power of the Church
remains as yet slightly in the ascendant : it can com-
mand a little more than half the votes of the country
as long as the present partial suffrage holds. The
a-esults, however, show that Catholics are really in the
nainority, and if ever the Socialists and I^iberals unite
they will be swept out of power.

So much is clear from election results ; but in a
country that is fermenting with new ideas mere
statistics teach very little of themselves. A new party,
which is hardly a generation old, and which has had
a marvellously rapid growth, is presumed to have
acquired a serious momentum. It consists almost
entirely of converts, and the convert is usually con-
scious of his opinions and zealous for them. The
adherents of the old party may still be, to a great
extent, in their traditional apathy, and only need
their minds to be quickened to make them change their
position. Such would seem to be the state of affairs
in Belgium, if we take no more than clerical
•witnesses.

A YEAR AT LOUVAIN 143

It is much easier to test the real fidelity of nominal
adherents of the Church of Rome than of those of any
other sect or party in existence ; it is the only sect that
binds its members under pain of grievous sin to certain
positive religious observances. Hence it is possible
to gauge the depth and vitaUty of its influence over
its statistical members without entering into their
consciences. And so the fact that one-third of the
students at the only Catholic university habitually
neglect mass has a great significance. I once heard
a dispute between a Walloon Premonstratensian monk
and a Flemish Franciscan about the religious merits
of their respective races. To a stranger it seemed
difficult to choose between them. Confession was
taken as a safe test, for annual confession is essential,
and its integrity is equally demanded under pain of
mortal sin. However, the Walloon boasted that you
could beUeve a Walloon in the confessional, but cer-
tainly not a Fleming. The Fleming admitted that it
was true, but he added, " You can believe a Walloon
when you get him, but he only comes to confess twice
in his life, at his first communion and at death."
They were both old missionaries, and their points were
quite confirmed by the others present.

Moreover, I had a more intimate experience of the
country, which confirmed my low estimate of its
Catholicism. During the Easter vacation I went to a
small convent in the country, about ten miles south of
Brussels. The supcricn- of the convent obtained juris-
diction for me, and I did nmcli service in the chapel
of the Comtesse de Meeus, in our own great solid iron
church at Argenteuil (well known to Waterloo visitors),
and in the parish church at Ohain. We monks were

144 A YEAR AT LOUVAIN

forbidden under pain of suspension to assist the dying
or to hear Easter confessions ; but I soon found that if
we did not do so a great many people would refuse to
take the sacraments. I assisted three dying persons :
one was already unconscious and could only be
anointed, and her friends were utterly indifferent about
even that; another, a young man, had to be coaxed
into making his confession, but refused point blank
to receive communion and extreme unction from his
parish priest, and died without them ; the third visibly
condescended to confess, saying that it was immaterial
to him— he would if I wished. Many others came to
confess, saying that they would either confess to me
or not at all. Everywhere, even amongst professing
Catholics, there was a strong anti-clerical feeUng,
though the peasantry made a curious exception in
favour of monks. They had not the least idea of the
real Ufe inside the friaries and the quantity of Uquor
consumed.

And when I went down to assist at Ohain for the
last day of the Easter confessions I found the little
parish in a curious condition, even to my heretical
experience. The cure smiled when I asked how many
he expected for confession, and said that he had not
the faintest idea. Theoretically, he should have known
how many had already made their Pdques (or Easter
confession), and how many parishioners he had ; it was
a simple sum of subtraction. He was amused at my
simplicity. It appeared that there were some hundreds
who might or might not make their Pdques: in point
of fact, we had about a hundred more than the per-
ceding year. He did not seem much concerned about
the matter ; said it was not an abnormal condition, and

A YEAR AT LOUVAIN 145

tliat it seemed irremediable. It was curious to note
that a Protestant mission which had been founded in
the neighbourhood for some time had only succeeded
after heroic efforts in securing two dilapidated " con-
verts." The Belgians, like the French, are Catholic
or nothing.

What I observed was fully confirmed by the informa-
tion I sought on the subject. The people were indif-
ferent, and even a large proportion of the clergy were
apathetic. Great Catholic demonstrations there were
in abundance, but little importance can be attached to
such manifestations. In the great procession of the
Fete-Dieu at Louvain I saw hundreds taking part who
were merely nominal Catholics ; and other extraordin-
ary religious displays, such as the procession of the
miraculous statue at Ilasselt, where I spent some time,
were largely supported by the Liberal municipality and
hotel-keepers from commercial reasons. Little can be
gathered, therefore, from statistics or from external
pageantry. The fideUty of the people must be tested,
as in France, by their obedience to the grave obligations
the Church imposes. Under such a test the Catholi-
cism of Belgium fails lamentably. Although the
wisdom of uniting religious and political issues may
be questioned, one may confidently anticipate a steady
growth of the anti-clerical party.

CHAPTER VIII

MINISTRY IN LONDON

From Louvain I was recalled at the close of the first
academical year by a revival of my educational func-
tions at London. A new generation of philosophers
had arrived, and I had to resume the task of im-
printing the conclusions of the scholastic philosophy
on their youthful and unsympathetic minds. The
theological studies also were conducted at Forest
Gate, and all the students had to remain under an
" instructor " until they were promoted to the priest-
hood. As I held that position during most of the
time I remained at Forest Gate, I had ample oppor-
tunity to study the formation of priests, as the in-
structor is responsible for the material and spiritual
welfare of those under his charge. Of the innumer-
able complications with superiors, and with a certain
type of inferiors, which my zeal (not always, perhaps,
nicely tempered with prudence) provoked I forbear
to speak. Enough has been said in the preceding
chapters about the life of the students, so I pass on
to a fuller treatment of the sacerdotal ministry, in
which I was now thoroughly immersed.

In a monastic house, even in England, there are
always more priests than in a secular presbytery ;
more, indeed, than are necessary for the administra-

146

MINISTRY IN LONDON 147

tion of the parisli which is committed to their care.
Many of these priests, however, are traveUing mis-
sionaries whose work Ues ahnost entirely outside their
convent. It is customary in Catholic churches to hold
a mission, or series of services somewhat akin to the
revival services of the Methodists, every few years ;
it consists principally of a course of the most violent
and imaginative sermons on hell, heaven, eternity, &c.,
and really has the effect of converting numbers to a
sense of their religious duties. Although Cardinal
Manning, who, in writing and in action, shows a
studied disregard of the monastic orders, endeavoured
to form a band of secular or non-monastic missionaries,
it is usually conceded that the desired effect can only
be satisfactorily attained by monks. Hence every order
has a number of religious specially trained for that
purpose, of whom two or three are found in every
monastery.

Their life differs entirely from that of the ordinary
monk ; even when they are at home they are exempt
from community services, from which the constitu-
tions release them for three days after returning from
and three days before starting for a mission. They
frequently travel long distances, especially to Ireland,
and are sometimes absent from their monastery for
months at a time. They are, as has been said, the
chief bread-winners of the community. They receive
from five to ten pounds per week for their services,
and bring home also large sums in the shape of alms
or mass-stipends ; if a smaller fee is offered they never
return to that parish. I have known a Franciscan
superior (whose rule forbids him to claim any fee
whatever, or to receive any money) to maintain a

148 MINISTRY IN LONDON

warm correspondence with a parish priest on the in-
sufficiency of his fee. " Tempora mutantur, nos et
mutamur in iUis " would not be an inappropriate
motto for the friars to substitute for their high-
sounding " In sanctitate et doctrina." However, the
missionaries have very severe labours, as a rule, and
many of them work with untiring industry and devo-
tion. They hold a service every evening, including
one heavy sermon, an instruction, aiid a number of
fatiguing ceremonies. I have known many priests
to collapse under the strain. The enormous number
of confessions they hear adds much to their exertions.
At the same time, many of them prefer the change
and comparative comfort of the life to confinement in
the monastery. They lighten their task by preaching
the same sermons everywhere they go, and they usually
find the presbytery much more comfortable than home ;
if they do not, the parish priest will ask in vain for
a second mission.

Another form of outside work which is less under-
stood is the practice of giving " retreats " to monas-
teries, nunneries, and other religious establishments.
A retreat is a period of recollection in which the
inmates of a convent suspend all study and secular
occupation, and occupy themselves exclusively with
religious exercises ; it usually lasts from ten to fourteen
days, and is held annually. The day is spent in
profound silence and meditation, but there are a
number of common ceremonies, and two or three
" meditations " — a kind of familiar sermon or causerie
— are preached daily. The amiable Jesuits are much
in demand for retreats, especially by the equally
amiable congregations of teaching nuns, but our friars

MINISTRY IN LONDON 149

were entrusted Avith a large number every year
amongst the less aristocratic congregations of nuns.
To give a retreat is, after a slight experience, not at
all a disagreeable task, and many even of our pro-
fessors used to spend their vacation in preaching them.
The usual method is to write out a set of meditations
(the usual graphic descriptions of the " last day,"
heaven, hell, &c.), though abler men, or men of
sincere fervour, make no preparation. The same set
of meditations is, of course, used in different places,
and five or six sets suffice for a lifetime; for a priest
is often invited several years in succession to the
same convent, and, if the nuns have been particularly
amiable and hospitable, he accepts. In such cases he
must have a new set of conferences, for nuns have
long memories, and will look up maliciously if he
drops mto a passage of one of his former sermons.
Besides receiving the usual five or ten pounds, the
priest can always count upon a warm welcome and
tender and graceful hospitality from the good sisters
during his residence in their convent; and, as the
convent is very frequently at a pleasant watering-
place or other desirable locality, it is not surprising
tliat the work is much appreciated.

Then there are minor functions which bring grist
to the conventual mill, and afford the friars some
diversion from the dreary monotony of home life.
The secular clergy take annual holidays, and engage
a friar at one pound per Sunday to conduct their
services; one of our friaries (at Manchester), where
the missionaries were not in great demand for higher
work, took u|) the work of *' supply " with such zeal
tliat it earned the title of the " Seraphic Cab-stand."

150 MINISTRY IN LONDON

Special sermons, also, are frequently asked, and
chaplaincies are sometimes oflFered to the friars. A
neighbouring nunnery will always demand their
services, and even country families may prefer to
bring a friar down every Sunday for a couple of
guineas than to have a chaplain haunting the premises
all the week.

With so many outward attractions of a lucrative and
congenial nature the friars are sometimes tempted to
neglect their own parish, which is, or should be, their
principal care. The superior of the monastery is
always rector or parish priest,^ and several of his
inferiors act as curates ; as a rule there is about one
priest to every thousand people, less in older and
larger parishes — at Glasgow we had six priests to
attend to 16,000 people — and more in growing con-
gregations. The work, however, is usually confined
to the week end. On Saturday confessions are heard,
for it is necessary to confess before approaching the
sacrament, which is usually received on Sunday morn-
ing. On Sunday the priest has a long and very
fatiguing day's work ; he must, as a rule, say two
masses, an early one for communicants and a late
sung mass, at which also he preaches. On account
of the obligation to remain fasting, so stern that not
even a drop of water must pass his lips until the end
of the last mass, the work is very exacting, especially
to a priest who is single-handed. The section of

^ In reality all priests in England are merely missionaries, from
the point of view of canon law ; the bishops are the only real
parish priests. Beyond the fact that they are thiis transferable at
the bishop's pleasure, the irregularity does not make much practical
diifer«iice.

MINISTRY IN LONDON 151

tlieology which treats of this peculiar fast is interest-
ing; the careful calculation what fraction of a tea-
spoonful of water, or what substances (whether flies,
cork, glass, silk, cotton, &c.) break the fast, affords
serious pre-occupation to the casuist. In the afternoon
there are numerous minor ceremonies, baptisms,
catechetical instructions, &c. ; and in the evening
another long sermon with Vespers and Benediction.
Speaking from experience I may say that for one
man it is as severe a day's work as can be found in
any profession.

Here, however, the monastic clergy have the
advantage of numbers. Even the ordinary priest has
the consolation that the other six days of the week
will be practically days of rest; but to monks the
Sunday itself is not very formidable. Of the six
friars in our community there were never less than
three at home on Sunday, so that the work was fairly
distributed.

However, the Sunday work of the priest is obvious
enough. Curiosity looks rather to the manner in
which he spends the other six days of the week. It
may be said in a word that the daily life of a clergy-
man is much the same in every religious sect. Apart
from the fact tliat he has no family relations, the
Catholic priest occupies himself in a manner very
similar to that of his Anglican brother. The friar,
of course, is supposed to follow a very different and
much more serious " order of the day," but here
again theory and practice lie wide apart. The rule
of the friar, who, in a missionary country like Kiigland
or the States, is unfortunately compelled to take
charge of a parisli, is simple and reasonable ; he must

152 MINISTRY IN LONDON

assist at the community devotions which have been
previously described, and the remainder of his time
must be divided betvs'een study and the discharge of
his parochial duties. In the morning from eight to
twelve he is supposed to study, from three to seven
he must visit his parishioners, from eight to ten he
must occupy himself once more with study or prayer.
That is the edifying theory, but the fact is that
the more agreeable task of attending to their
parishioners absorbs most of the priests' time. There
are few friars who, after they have once entered upon
parochial duties, give more than a sporadic and careless
attention to study. They say that they do not find
any advantage for the better performance of their
duties in study, and, since most of their " duty "
resolves itself into visits to the sick and chattering
with ladies over afternoon tea, their contention is
plausible enough; although there are many cases in
which their unfamiharity with modern literature and
its great problems brings them into contempt. I have
been asked by wives or sisters in the confessional to
visit men who were understood to be wavering in
faith. When I referred them to their parish priests,
I was answered that they had so low an estimate of
their parish priests that they refused to discuss with
them. And where they do meet a Catholic who shows
an interest in and acquaintance with modern literature,
the clergy are suspiciously prompt to urge the restric-
tions imposed by the Index. If they are not prepared
to acquaint themselves with current literature — and a
not unintelligent colleague of mine once frankly
admitted that he could not read even the pellucid
essays of Mr. Huxley — they take care that their flock

MINISTRY IN LONDON 153

does not outstrip them. I once heard a professor of
dogmatic theology contend that the Nineteenth Century
is on the Index, and should be forbidden to Catholics ;
yet so curious is the procedure of the Church, that
it was reserved for a Catholic writer (Mivart) to
procure for it, by his contributions, a place in the
distinguished gallery of the condemned. At any rate,
a priest who is not inclined to study finds in the
elasticity of the Church's policy ample justification for
literary tyranny.

The manner in which the clergy exercise their
literary responsibility tries the patience of the educated
layman. The priest, and especially the friar, has very
little acquaintance with fiction (which is expressly
proscribed by the monastic constitutions), still less
with science or philosophy, and has very wrong ideas
of history ; and, since the majority of condemned
books are not named in the Index, but are simply
involved in the general censure of " against faith or
morals," he has to exercise his judgment on a point
of some delicacy. The result is sad confusion. One
priest is delighted with " The Three Musketeers,"
and permits Dumas — unconscious that Dumas is
expressly on the Index. Ouida is much disputed,
even amongst the Jesuits. The high-principled works
of George Eliot are condemned unread ; she was an
agnostic, and lived with Lewes. Mrs. Lynn Linton,
Mrs. Humphry Ward, Sarah Grand, Marie Corelli,
George Meredith, Tiiomas Hardy, Hall Caine, Eden
Phillpotts, Jerome K. Jerome, Anthony Hope, II. G.
Wells, and most of our leading novelists are either
deists or agnostics. Even Mrs. Craigie and Dr. Barry
give anxiety at times. The poor Catholic is perplexed

154 MINISTRY IN LONDON

before the list of modern novelists, and so reads them
all. So it is with science and philosophy. The best
English and German exponents are heterodox, and
when the priest pays his visit and sees their works
lying about, he not infrequently demands that they
be destroyed. Hence it is that Jesuit and other
" Catholic Truth Society " writers find it possible to
foist on the Catholic body the lamentable garbling
of history and science which one finds in their publica-
tions. Their readers are forbidden to read the other
side, and Catholic reviews of antagonistic literature
are quite unscrupulous, at least in such journals as
the Catholic Times.

The priest's conversation is rendered insipid and
uninviting by the same dearth of knowledge and
narrowness of judgment. On biblical criticism,
sociology, and a host of prominent questions, the
priest is either painfully dogmatic on points that the
educated world has long ceased to dogmatise about,
or else he is just as painfully confused. But even on
a number of questions on which the world has formed
a decided opinion years ago, he is strangely timid and
conservative. Rome itself showed much caution in
responding to an inquiry about hypnotic phenomena,
and such eminent modern theologians as Lehmkuhl
and Ballerini seem convinced that in its more abstruse
phenomena hypnotism embodies a diabolical influence.
Even table-turning, of which Carpenter gave a lucid
explanation ages ago, is gravely called in question by
the Roman decrees and the casuists, and, naturally,
by the majority. In fact, the author whom I was
directed to use in teaching philosophy, Mgr. E. Grand-
claude, a widely popular modern author, gravely

MINISTRY IN LONDON 155

attributes the more curious manifestations of som-
nambulism to the same untiring and ubiquitous agent.
On almost every question the priest is found to be
ignorant, antiquated, tyrannical.

Naturally, then, the conversations with their
parishioners, which occupy most of their time, are
not of an intellectual type. In the morning the friar
rarely visits, except in cases of sickness, but he is
much visited. In every monastery there is a section
marked off near the door— usually the hall and a few
small parlours — to which ladies are allowed access.
Into the monastery proper women (except the queen,
who cannot be excluded) are never admitted under
any circumstances, even to visit a dying son or brother,
under pain of excommunication. I have known a
mother to sit in tears in the waiting-room while her
son, a young priest, was dying in the infirmary almost
above her head. In these parlours, however (which, I
hasten to add, are fitted with glass doors), the friars
spend a good part of the morning. The rest of the
forenoon is supposed to be spent in reading or prepar-
ing sermons in the cells; but it goes very largely in
chatting in each other's cells, or in the library, or
over the daily paper — all of which is entirely illicit.
After dinner, recreation, and early tea, the friars
exchange their brown halnts for ordinary clerical attire
and proceed to visit their parishioners. They are
directed to return to the convent at seven, but they
usually arrive much later.

Apart from the care of the sick and the dying, and
the occasional necessity of reproving wandering sheep,
the duty of " visiting," wliich is almost their only
function on the six appointed days of labour, is far

156 MINISTRY IN LONDON

from laborious. The parish is divided into districts,
of which one is committed to the care of each priest,
and he is directed to visit each family once in three
months. The object is, of course, to strengthen the
bond between clergy and laity and to secure individual
fidelity to the Church. Naturally, however, what
really happens is that a few agreeable families are
selected for frequent visits, which differ in no respect
from the visits of ordinary unconsecrated people (in
fact, the priest would hardly be welcome who paraded
his profession too much) ; sometimes they are unusu-
ally generous benefactors, sometimes merely families
of ordinary social attractiveness, very frequently
merely young and amiable ladies whose husbands or
fathers are at business. In any case, the poor and
uninteresting are forgotten; the favourites are visited
weekly or oftener, and the visits are sometimes pro-
tracted to two or three hours. Much jealousy ensues
amongst the favourites (who watch each other's
houses), and counter visits, teas, dinners, parties, &c.,
have to be accepted. Thus the week is easily and not
uncongenially absorbed, and a priest often finds that
he is scarcely able to prepare a sermon for the Sunday.
Since most of the visits are made in the afternoon
and on week days, it follows that they are almost
exclusively made to ladies ; one result of which is that
our English friars are found to be much less
misogynous than their continental or their medieval
brethren, who have or had no parishes to superintend.
Many Protestant husbands forbid the admission of a
priest into the house in their absence. On the whole,
the priests are discreet, and an excellent control is
exercised over all concerned by a comprehensive system

MINISTRY IN LONDON 157

of jealousy. The priests are jealous of each other, and
strongly resent any intrusion in each other's district
or parish; the ladies honoured with the visits are
jealous of each other ; and a numerous non-Catholic
population is jealously surveying the whole. In the
Franciscan rule there is, besides the vow of chastity,
a special grave precept enjoining the friars to avoid
" suspicious intercourse " with women, and it is not
unconmion for a superior publicly to denounce an
inferior for that fault. Two or three cases happened
at Forest Gate in my time, but the accusation clearly
sprang from jealousy on the part of the superior. In
private, mutual accusation, especially of frequenting
by preference the society of young women, was very
common, and was not without foundation. Another
rule that tended to prevent disorder was that all
letters were to be given open to the superior to be
forwarded, and he was supposed to read all the letters
he received for his inferiors. But the superior who
followed out this rule in dealing with the correspond-
ence of any but the juniors would have an unenviable
position ; and, of course, the priests were out every
day tliemselves and could easily post their letters.

There was also a regulation — the only one in our
constitutions (which, unlike '* the rule " written by
St. Francis, the friar does not solemnly vow to observe
and which are only disciplinary) that was enforced
under a grave moral obligation — forbidding us to take
any intoxicating drink within the limits of our own
parish. The rule, which merely aimed at preventing
scandal, led to curious incidents and many transgres-
sions. One old Belgian friar, who was afflicted with
chronic thirst and did not find the monastic allowance

158 MINISTRY IN LONDON

sufficient, used to take the tram regularly to some hotel
just outside the limits of the parish (at Stratford in
East London). A dispensation could only be obtained
by calling together the elders of the community and
asking their collective permission. They were, of
course, always willing to oblige each other and, to do
them justice, even the juniors. In my later monastic
days, when faith waned, I appreciated the arrange-
ment. There were friars, however, who drank where
they willed and ignored the rule. Like all other
rules, it was susceptible of many ingenious interpreta-
tions, and, finally, the opinion was started that the
whole of the constitutions were invalid.

The mutual intercourse of the friars was limited,
in theory, to the hour's recreation after dinner. Wine
was only granted by the constitutions about once per
month, and Avhisky was entirely prohibited. In point
of fact, there were friaries (Manchester, for instance)
in which whisky was given almost every day, and
sometimes three times per day. In most friaries it
was given every Saturday and Sunday evening. At
Forest Gate, partly from greater sobriety, partly (and
very much) from greater poverty, and partly on account
of the presence of students, we only drank wine or
spirits three or four times per week ; whisky was
discountenanced, but one friar found port to injure his
tonsils, another complained of liver, another of heart,
&c., so that it was the favourite drink. Smoking also
was prohibited in the monastery ; but it was not
difficult to obtain a medical recommendation to smoke,
and the local superior could always distribute cigars
when he willed.

The nature of the recreation has been mentioned

MINISTRY IN LONDON 159

in a previous chapter. We sat and talked over our
coffee for half-an-hour, then discoursed in the garden
for half-an-hour. In some monasteries dominoes,
bagatelle, skittles, &c., were introduced to escape the
necessity for conversation. Cards were forbidden, and
chess was discountenanced (with complete success) on
the ambiguous ground that the friars had no cerebral
tissue to waste on intellectual games. ^

The conversation only deserves a word on account
of the curiosity which seems to prevail with regard to
it. Two types of monastic conversation are known
to the general public : the spiritual talk recommended
by monastic writers and the jolly intercourse so dear
to the artist. Both types, and especially the former,
are infrequent in the real life of the friary, Mr.
Dendy Sadler's pictures of jolly friars may serve to
illustrate their high festivals, but the ordinary con-
versation was dull and depressing. Politics had the
largest share in it. All the friars were keen poUticians,
though they dare not openly manifest any political
sympathy. They were all Liberals, but for the sake
of argument one or other would attack or defend some
I)oint in an uninteresting way for an hour or so. One
daily i)aper is allowed in the friary, but no weeklies
or monthlies. Then casuistry gave much matter for
discussion, and points of ritual and canon law were
often debated. Here and there some friar of a higher
intellectual type might broach questions of living
interest, but in those cases the conversation was apt

' It is a remarkable and mysterious fact that cards were, as far
a-s my exi)erience went, never seen in a monastery. Speaking quite
literally, I may say tliat this was tlie only one of our rules which
, we seriously observed.

160 MINISTRY IN LONDON

to degenerate into a pedantic and not very accurate
monologue. But a vast amount o£ time was spent,
as has frequently been suggested of them, in the most
painful puerihties. Their sense of humour seems to
undergo an extraordinary degeneration, and the more
rational of them frequently express their disgust at
the character of their " recreation." There are one
or two strong personalities who habitually tyrannise
over the friaries in which they are found, and even
contrive at the elections to keep near them one or
two less gifted brethren whom they may bully and
banter at will. As they are men of high authority
and influence, their victims find it expedient to submit
patiently to this constant flight of rudely fashioned
shafts for a year or two; in the end they usually
find themselves elevated to some position to which
their intrinsic merit could hardly have raised them.

For throughout the length and breadth of the
Franciscan Order (and every other order) ambition
and intrigue of office are the most effectual hindrances
to fraternal charity. All officials are elected and fre-
quently changed, so that the little province is as
saturated with jealousy and intrigue as a South
American Eepubhc. Every three years a general
election is held, at which the General from Rome is
supposed to preside. The usual course is for the
General (whose real name is " general servant " of
the fraternity, but it is usually preferred in the
abbreviated form) to send a deputy to the province
which is about to hold its elections. The deputy,
or " visitator," visits all the monasteries in succession
and affords each friar an opportunity, in private con-
versation, to submit his personal grievances or his

MINISTRY IN LONDON 161

knowledge of general abuses. Of the former, how-
ever, the visitator takes little notice, referring them
to more immediate superiors, and he is usually quite
powerless to correct any general abuse. One of our
English friars was deputed to visit the Irish province
on the occasion of its election some years before my
secession. He did not disguise his intention of making
a special effort to check the flow of whisky in that
province, as he considered it the source of all evil in
modern monastic life; his own particular vanity was
port. We were not a little surprised to find on the
return of our zealous crusader that he had himself
been converted to the seductive spirit, and only the
too openly manifested delight of his numerous enemies
— whom he had persistently denounced at Rome for
ten years as " whisky-drinkers " — prevailed upon him
to return to port.

When the visitator has completed the circuit of the
province he summons the members of the higher
council, or " definitors," to the monastery where the
election is held. The superiors or " guardians " of the
various monasteries then send in their resignations,
together with a declaration on oath by their priests
(if they can get all the signatures), that they have
fulfilled their duty to their community and a full
account of their financial transactions. The guardians
themselves arrive on the following day, and proceed
by a secret ballot to the election of a new provincial,
and his council of five definitors. The guardians then
disperse, and the newly elected council proceeds to
npi)oint new guardians with their subordinate officers.
I'lverytliing is conducted with the utmost secrecy, the
voting pai)ers being "burned and pulverised in the

162 MINISTRY IN LONDON

presence of the voters, and every friar present being
put under oath not to reveal the proceedings. PubUc
prayers are also commanded for weeks in advance, and
the election opens with a solemn High Mass to the
Holy Spirit ; an oath is also taken by the electors that
they will choose those whom they consider the most
worthy.

That is the admirable theory of the election ; its
actual course is somewhat different. Before the
solemn imploration of the light of the Holy Spirit
on the election morning the whole scheme has been
practically settled. The province is really an oligarchy,
not an elective democracy. A few abler or older men
form the Definitorium, and there is a sufficiently clear
understanding ^ between them and the guardians to
insure that the guardians will re-elect them and they,
in their turn, will reappoint the guardians. There is
a slight struggle from one or two young Radicals, and
perhaps a new aspirant to a place on the council, but
changes rarely occur. The old definitors are prac-

^ The following extracts from a letter written by one monastic
superior to another may be instructive : —

"... they are trying to force me to do what I don't think fair or
just to my successor . . . but I will not do anything that I deem in
principle mean or unjust to my successor. I say mean, for I deem
it such when guardians to please their superiors send them gifts
which the papal Bulls call bribes, and which several Popes strictly
forbid. But I absolutely refused until compelled by obedience to do
such. Of coiu-se I was threatened by the ' powers that be ' that I
would pay for it, etc. ; but I told them over and over again, ' I
fear only God and my conscience.'"

Unfortunately there were many who had not the firmness, honesty,
and deep religious spirit of the writer of that letter. [As the writer
is now dead, I will add that the letter was written by the Very Rev.
Father Jarlath, O.S.F., to myself a few;weeks before I left. Second
edition. ]

MINISTRY IN LONDON 163

tically sure of re-election, and so on the night before
the electors arrive they have arranged all appointments
under no other spiritual influence than that of a cigar
and a glass of whisky.

For the higher position of provincial — a quasi-
episcopate — the intrigue runs much deeper. Votes
are practically bought, by means of minor appoint-
ments and other bon-bons, years in advance, and the
province is really severed into factions headed by the
different candidates. There are many friars to whom
these proceedings are very repugnant, but others use
them more or less unscrupulously. I once took a
prominent friar to task for his indulgent treatment of
a notoriously unworthy official. He answered frankly
that the man " had a vote ^' — going on to explain how
necessary it was for the good of the fraternity that
he himself should take the helm at the next election,
however reluctant he felt to do so.

When these facts are considered, in addition to the
jealousy which naturally arises in connection with
preaching, penitents, and the esteem of the laity
generally, it will be understood that life in a friary
is not one of paradisaical monotony. Open conflicts
arc rare, but the strained relations between rivals and
their followers frequently find expression in conversa-
tion and conference. In fact, the constant suspicion
and caution sometimes lead to very unexpected
phenomena. Thus, a colleague of mine seemed to me
in uncomfortable relations with a large number of friars,
and of one of them he told me a strange story. He
had entered his cell during the friar's absence and
found a revolver, which he abstracted and destroyed ;
he even addcrl that he kept a secret lock on his own

164 MINISTRY IN LONDON

bedroom door at night, for the ordinary lock is open
to a superior's master-key, and the friar in question
was a superior and a priest of high reputation/

Besides the triennial election, called a chapter,
there is a half -chapter every eighteen months in which
many changes take place. The friars do not, how-
ever, as a rule, appreciate the variety which is thus
afforded them, for they soon find attachments in a
mission which they are loth to break off. But quite
apart from elections a friar is hable to be ordered off
to a different monastery at any moment. It is related
of the celebrated Duns Scotus that when he received
the order to go from Paris to Cologne, he happened
to be away from the Paris monastery. He at once
set off on foot for Cologne without returning even
to bid good-bye to liis brethren. The modern friar
is not so precipitate. His " obedience," as the formal
order to remove is called, allows three days to reach
his destination; so that the friar has ample time to
collect his luggage (for in spite of his vow of poverty
every friar has a certain amount of personal property),
and perhaps elicit a testimonial from his pious admirers.

Needless to say, the friar no longer makes his jour-
neys on foot, as the founder of the order intended.
There is a precept in the rule that forbids " riding "
under pain of mortal sin, and commentators are much
at variance in their efforts to apply it to modern

^ This incident somewhat startled me on re-reading it, but I now
recollect it quite clearly. The two men were two of the most dis-
tino-uished preachers at our Forest Gate friary, and each tried to
turn me against the other. I leave it to the reader to settle whether
the one who spoke to me of revolvers and secret locks was merely
lying. Third edition.

MINISTRY IN LONDON 165

naeans of locomotion. Most of them say that the
horse is still gravely prohibited— to ride, that is to
say, for in Belgium we more than once had the
pleasure of eating it; the ass and the camel are not
to be mounted without necessity ; and a ship may be
used when the friar has not to pay for his sail. The
railway is a subject of grave theoretical controversy,
but the majority of the pundits are agreed that it may
be used wlien necessary ; which is a convenient solution.
In point of fact, the English or American friar takes
his cab or 'bus or train without giving a thought to
his rule. He has, at least once in three years, a
holiday of two or three weeks' duration, and he has
odd days in the country or at the seaside. He cannot,
however, leave his own country without special per-
mission from Rome.

The " obedience," or formal order to travel, is at
the same time a mark of identity for the friar when
he arrives at a strange convent. He is ahvays bound
to seek the hospitality of his brethren if they have a
convent in the town, and the superior's first care is
to demand his " obedience," on which his destination
is marked. This is enjoined as a precaution against
apostates, and especially against frauds. For" even
monastic hospitality has been taken advantage of by
impostors. In Belgium some years ago the imposition
was attempted on a large scale at one of our friaries.
A bishop and his secretary presented themselves for
a few days' hosjiitality, and were received and treated
by the friars with the courtesy and attention wliich
bcfiKcd their rank. There was nothing unusual in the
occurrence, and the friars were always glad to receive
so flattering a guest. His lordship said mass daily

G

166 MINISTRY IN LONDON

with correct episcopal ceremony, and had all the
requisite paraphernalia. After a time, however, a
suspicion was aroused, and when his lordship had
casually mentioned the name of the cardinal who had
consecrated him, a telegraphic communication was
made with Rome, with the result that the impostors
were handed over to the civil authority. At London
we had visitors from all parts of the world, and it
would be difficult to detect an impostor. I remember
one whom we turned out of the monastery after a
few weeks' hospitality, and no one knows to this
day whether he was a genuine friar or not. He was
a Spaniard, an old man with our brown costume in
his possession, who represented himself as a lay-
brother from our province of Mexico. He hinted
that a secret Government mission had brought him
to London. He spoke French fluently, and was a
most interesting conversationalist, representing that he
had at one time been a private secretary of Don Carlos
and an active figure in Spanish politics. However,
Fra Carpoforo's business in London seemed unduly
protracted, and our suspicious superiors politely
recommended him an hotel in the city.

Impostors find great difficulty in penetrating into the
order as novices in modern times, for there are
numerous formalities to comply with. Not only are
his baptismal certificate and a letter from his bishop
necessary, but inquiries are made as to whether there
is any hereditary disease, or insanity, or heresy in his
family, whether he is single and legitimate, and so
with a host of other qualifications. In olden times
anybody who presented himself was admitted to " the
habit of probation " without inquiry, and it is a well- i

MINISTRY IN LONDON 167

known fact that women have thus obtained entrance
into the monastery and remained in it until their
death. Several such women are recorded in the
official Martyrology of the Order : a book in which the
memory is preserved of holy friars who have not
attained the supreme rank of canonisation. Their
names were read to us annually.

An amusing case of imposture occurred at Forest
Gate a few years before my secession. A young man
of very smart appearance presented himself at the
monastery and intimated a desire to enter the order
as a lay-brother. He had no credentials, but mentioned
( asually one or two friars in other monasteries " whose
masses he had served." He represented himself as a
cook, saying that he had been at Charing Cross Hotel
and other places. Without a single inquiry he was
received into the monastery, where he remained for
three weeks, cooking for the brethren and maintaining
a very modest and satisfactory demeanour. On the
third Sunday, however, he vanished with the whole
of the money that had been collected in the church on
that day, and a quantity of clothing, &c., which he
had borrowed. As the Sunday was one of the great
festivals, on which a special collection had been taken
for the friars, the anger of the superior may be
imagined. The police smiled when we gave them a
descri{)tion of our *' novice.'*

c. 2

CHAPTER IX

OTHER ORDERS AND THE LONDON CLERGY

It will be readily perceived that the less attractive
features of the life of the Grey Friars, which I have
described, are not due to circumstances which are
peculiar to that order. They are the inevitable result
of forcing a mediaeval ideal on temperaments and in
circumstances that are entirely modern. It will be
expected, therefore, that other monastic congregations,
at least, will present much the same features. The
rules and constitutions of different orders differ as
much as their costumes, and their specific aims — for
each order is supposed to have a distinctive aim to
justify its separate foundation — also differ. But again,
the difference is rather theoretical than practical.
Through the exigencies of their missionary status in
England and the United States,^ they have been

1 As I have mentioned, the hierarchy and the parochial system
are not in their normal condition in ' ' heretical " countries. Hence
Dr Temple was, from the canonical point of view, more correct
than he knew when he styled the Church of Eome in England
" the Italian Mission." The conditions are so exactly parallel m
Encrland and the States, and in the greater part of Canada, that
my^experiences may be freely used in estimating monastic life m
America The American friars I have met were, if anything,
further removed from the ideal of St. Francis than my immediate
colleagues.

168

OTHER ORDERS * 169

brought down to one common level of parochial
activity. Their work differs little from that of the
secular clergy, or the non-Catholic clergy; and the
same curious and half-hearted efforts are made to
maintain their ritual and ascetical peculiarities in the
privacy of the convent as have been described in the
case of the Grey Friars.

It was well known by my colleagues that I was
deeply concerned at the unpleasant condition of my
surroundings for many years before my secession. I
frequently spoke with one distinguished friar on the
subject, and he professed to be in entire accord with
me on the point, and used to deprecate it in even
stronger terms than I. However, suspecting that I
would on that account be tempted to procure a release
from the Franciscan rule and pass to some other order
(for which permission could be obtained), he would
go on to assure me — and he was a man of knowledge
— that every other order, and the secular clergy too,
was in a similarly unsatisfactory condition. As time
went on I found many reasons to acquiesce in the
opinion he gave me. Catholic priests have two weak-
nesses in common with the gentler sex — vanity and
love of scandal. One cannot move much in clerical
circles without soon learning the seamy side of different
orders and dioceses. The different dioceses of the
secular clergy are more or less jealous of each otlier,
and the secular clergy are, as a rule, strongly opposed
to the regulars. Nine secular priests out of ten hate
all monks, and nine j)riests (of either kind) out of ten
liate the Jesuits. One meets many priests who are
willing to accept the extreme Protestant version of
•Jesuitism. Only a few years ago a drama waa

170 OTHER ORDERS

presented in a theatre at Barcelona, in which were
embodied the bitterest and gravest charges against the
Jesuits ; and when the delighted Spaniards called for
the author, a priest in his clerical dress walked to the
footlights. In the presence of laymen, of course, every
branch of sacerdotalism is treated as little less than
angelic ; a priest will then, as I have heard them do,
praise a priest he hates. But a few years' attentive
intercourse with different orders and with the clergy
of several dioceses has taught me to regard all priests
as very human, neither more nor less.

For instance, there were in my time, as was ex-
plained in the second chapter, three distinct branches
of the Franciscan Order in England ; and the three
sections were as jealous, hostile, and mutually depre-
ciatory as three rival missionary societies. A few
years before I left the French colony of friars at
Clevedon advertised for cast-off clothing for their
youthful aspirants for the order ; our authorities imme-
diately wrote to Rome and got their action reproved
as derogatory to the dignity of the order — the order,
it will be remembered, being a mendicant order, indeed
the most humble of all mendicant orders. The French
friars in their turn disturbed the peace of my colleagues
by securing the patronage of the Duchess of Newcastle
and pitching their tent within a few miles of Forest
Gate ; not even inviting us to the foundation of their
church. Another day our friars were exalted at the
news that their Capuchin brethren (the bearded Fran-
ciscans) had been forced to sell their Dulwich monas-
tery to the Benedictines, and again at the rumour that
the Capuchins (amongst whom, it was said, there had
been a general scuffle and dispersion and that several

OTHER ORDERS 171

of their best men had departed for the American
missions) were likely to be starved into selling their
house at Olton. Both these monastic bodies had the
same manner of life as ourselves, and are, indeed, now
amalgamated with my late colleagues.

Other historic bodies, such as the Dominicans,
Benedictines, and Carmelites, bear much the same
relation to their primitive models, though their mem-
bers are more cultured and refined, on the whole, than
my colleagues were. The Protestant surroundings
are held to prevent them from being entirely faithful
to their rules, and once the thin end of the wedge
is in it penetrates very deeply. The modern fria^rs
have too much sense to attempt a full revival of the
thirteenth century. There is a poetry and romance
about the retention of the costume, but its asceticism
and crude religious realism are as antiquated as
feudalism. In olden times every monastery had
quite an armoury of spiked chains, bloody scourges,
thigh-bracelets, hair shirts, &c. In all my experience
I have only seen one such instrument of self-torture.
It was a thigli-bracelet, a broad wire chain, each link
ending in a sharp point that ran into the flesh. It
was rusty enough, though not from the blood of
victims, and it excited as much interest and humorous
comment in the party of monks who were examin-
ing it as does a Spanish instrument of torture in the
Tower of London in the crowd of Protestant visitors.
St. Aloysius, the great model of the Jesuits, was so
modest in his relations with the dangerous sex, that he
<lid not even know his own mother by sight. To shak**
hands with a woman is condemned by all monastic
writers as a very grave action. Most Catholic young

172 OTHER ORDERS

ladies are aware that the modern monk — above all,
the Jesuit — is not at all misogynous.

The Dominicans have several peculiar precepts in
their rule which they are much tempted to think
lightly of; they are entirely forbidden flesh-meat, and
they are always forbidden to talk over dinner. I
have had the pleasure of dining at their large house
at Haverstock Hill on several festive occasions, and
I noticed that they trim the constitution a little by
adjourning to the library for dessert and wine; in
fact, my estimable neighbour did keep up a sotto voce
conversation with me throughout dinner. I heard
a much bolder feat of another Dominican convent.
Their precept directs, I understand, that flesh-meat
must not enter the refectory or dining-room ; the good
friars, however, wearied of the daily fish, but saved
their consciences on the days they took meat by
dining in another room. It reminds one of the pious
fraud of the Dublin Carmelites. They secured an
excellent site for a church, but had to surmount an
obstacle raised by a former proprietor. He, it appears,
did not wish a church to be erected on the spot, so
he stipulated that the land should only be sold to a
person or persons agreeing to build a house thereon.
That was too wide a net for a theologian ; the Car-
melites bought the land, erected a fine church on it,
and a house on top of the church !

I met another curious illustration of this theological
ingenuity at one time in London. A Dominican friar
had been commissioned to raise funds in England for
the conduct of the process of canonisation of a French
priest. He had with him a number of small patches
of black cloth, which were said to be portions of the

OTHER ORDERS 173

cassock of the holy man. He could not sell these —
the sale of relics is a grave sin in theology — but he
was, like the Spanish Church with its indulgences,
prepared to give one to every Catholic who gave him
ten shilUngs for the cause. My colleagues made a
friendly calculation that the relics which were being
thus distributed all over the Catholic world were so
large and numerous that they would make a consider-
able number of cassocks. Possibly the cloth had
grown, as the Holy Cross did in pre-critical days;
but we further noted that the relics were pieces of
excellent stuff, whereas it was recorded as a particular
proof of the saint's piety that he always wore an old
and ragged cassock. All this criticism was passed
at the time by priests, for it must not be supposed
that the clergy are as credulous as they hke the laity
to be. They know that the manufacture of relics is
a lucrative ecclesiastical industry. The Dominican, in
fact, admitted to us that his relics had merely touched
the original cassock of the saint, and we forced him,
under threat of exposnre, to return a half sovereign
a lady had given him.

The Jesuits are tiie most flourishing body of regular
clergy in England and America, and in every other
civilised or uncivilised nation. The reason of their
success is not far to seek. St. Ignatius bade them
from the start cultivate the powerful and wealthy and
found colleges for the young. They have been more
than faithful to this part of his teaching, and they
draw numbers of youths from their fine colleges. To
a gowl supply of men and money they add a rigorous
discipline, and the elements of success are complete.
A famous Roman caricature hits off very happily the

174 OTHER ORDERS

characteristic feature of the Jesuits and of three other
orders by a play on the words of Peter to Christ.
A Franciscan, Dominican, Augustinian, and Jesuit are
seated at a table of money ; the Franciscan repels it
with the words " Behold we have left all things,"
the Dominican imitates him, " And we have followed
thee," the Augustinian strikes an argumentative atti-
tude, asking, " What then? " and the Jesuit gathers
in the spoils, with the rest of the text, " remains
for us."

At the same time they are characterised by a
remarkable esprit de corps which leads to an intense
isolated activity. The glory of the society is para-
mount, and always coupled with the glory of the
Church ; they never co-operate with other orders, but
they freely cut across the lines of, and come into col-
lision with, other ecclesiastical forces. Hence there is
a very strong feeling against them amongst the clergy
and in higher quarters ; indeed, one would be sur-
prised to find how many priests are ready to agree
with Kingsley and Zola with regard to them. In
considering the accusations that are so commonly
brought against them one must remember how far
the acknowledged principles of Catholic casuistry can
be extended. It is true that the maxim, " The end
justifies the means," is denounced by all the theo-
logical schools, including the Jesuits, but the rejection
is at times little more than a quibble. An act which
remains intrinsically bad cannot be done for a good
purpose, they say, but every theologian admits that
the " end " of an action enters into and modifies its
moral essence ; and the act must be a very wicked
one which cannot be hallowed by being pressed into

OTHER ORDERS 175

the service of the Church CathoUc — or of the Society
of Jesus.

Such quibbles as Kingsley attributes to them in
" Westward Ho! " are certainly defensible on Catholic
principles and are constantly perpetrated by priests ; ^
and I should not be at all surprised if a Jesuit were
to argue himself into accepting the commission which
George Sand attributes to the Jesuit tutor in " Con-
suelo." Many priests would admit that M. Zola's
account of their activity, in " Rome," is probably cor-
rect. I once heard F. Bernard Vaughan, S.J., preach
a sermon on the title " What is a Jesuit? " With his
accustomed eloquence he summed up the traditional
idea — the historian's idea — of a Jesuit, and, in refuta-
tion, contented himself with detailing the spiritual
exercises through which the Jesuit so frequently
passes. Although, aided by F. Vaughan's great thea-
trical power and by the operatic performances which
preceded and followed it, the sermon produced con-
siderable effect, it was in reality merely a trick of
rhetoric. No one contends that the Jesuit is violating
his conscience in his plots, intrigues, and equivoca-
tions ; regret is usually felt that he should have been
able to bring his moral sense into such an accom-
modating attitude. Every ecclesiastic claims to be
unworldly in ultimate ambition ; yet even a pope
would think a lifetime well spent in diplomatic intrigue
for the restoration of his temporal power. All such
activity is easily covered by the accepted principles
of Catholic casuistry.

Still, whatever may have been the policy of Jesuits

* See afterwards, p. 209.

176 OTHER ORDERS

in past ages their activity in England at the present
day is patent. In London they have no parish, but
they are continually seeking out the wealthier Catholics
in various parishes and endeavouring to attach them
to their congregation at Farm Street, or send them to
help their struggUng missions at Stamford Hill and
Wimbledon. They even penetrated to Forest Gate
in this " poaching " spirit, and my colleagues were
greatly agitated when a Jesuit was known to be
about. We usually lost a well-to-do parishioner.
They have thus excited much hostiUty amongst the
rest of the clergy, but four centuries of bad treatment
from clergy and laity aUke have sufficiently inured
them, and only made them more self-contained and
independent. Apart from such petty intrigues for
the advancement of the society there does not seem
to be any deep undercurrent of Jesuit activity in
England at the present time; at Rome, of course,
every congregation and every individual must partici-
pate in the great struggle for canonical existence.^

Besides the great orders there are innumerable
minor congregations of regular or monastic priests
represented in London— Oblates of Mary, Oblates of
the Sacred Heart, Oblates of St. Charles, Servites,
Barnabites, Vincentians, Fathers of Charity, Marists,
Passionists, Redemptorists, &c. Most of them have
been founded in recent times by priests who were
eager to promote some particular devotion, and, by
influence or money, succeeded in getting permission
to found congregations embodying their idea. As a

1 See Count Hoensbroech's " Fourteen Years a Jesuit " for some
scatliing observations on the English Jesuits.

OTHER ORDERS 177

rule their ideal is not very ascetic, so that there is
less hypocrisy in their lives; but they also are gener-
ally too hard pressed in the mere struggle for existence
to pay much attention to the particular features and
objects of their respective congregations. I knew
little of them, but used to hear my older colleagues
tell with pleasure how Cardinal Manning scornfully
spoke of the Brompton Oratory as " the hen-coop,"
and how the Benedictines were rent with factions (as
one of them afterwards described in the Pall Moll
Magazine).

Besides the great number of regular clergy— who
would be more aptly styled the " Irregulars," both for
a discipUnary reason and in view of their canonical
relation to the rest of the clerical army— there are
the ordinary secular or non-monastic clergy. The
seculars are those who Uve in the world {sxculum)
and the regulars those who Uve in convents, under a
rule (regula). The seculars have a similar life to
that of the ordinary non-Catholic clergyman; it has
been fully described in the preceding chapter, for it
is similar to that of tlie monastic clergy who under-
take parochial duties. On Sunday their work is long
and laborious. During the week they visit their
parishioners, and the more attractive amongst their
neighbour's parishioners (which dangerous practice is
called " poaching," and is watched accordingly); take
tea and supper and play cards with them; visit, dine,
and wine with each other ; and picnics, parties, enter-
tainments, meetings, special services (with luncheons),
visits to the cardinal (after a polite and chilling
invitation called a comparcat), and occasional holidays,
hell) to fill up the inside of the week. They are

178 OTHER ORDERS

forbidden under pain of suspension to enter a theatre,
or witness theatrical performances of any kind.

They cordially detest the monastic clergy — who
have secured most of the best parishes of the diocese
— but do not object to dining with them on their
festivals. I remember hearing one at a dinner (or
near the close of a dinner) in a friary belonging to
our Franciscan rivals, unburden his mind about monks
in general and our friars in particular, in a way which
would have been warmly approved by the most loyally
Protestant body. With nuns they are usually on very
good terms; they find pupils and novices for the
convent, and in return are invited to the innumerable
special services, luncheons, entertainments, distribu-
tions of prizes, &c., which are equally gratifying to
them and the sisters.

Their circumstances, naturally, differ very widely
in different parishes ; as a rule they are not rich. I
have known a priest to reduce his living expenses to
nine shillings per week, and I should think there
are few who have <£150 per annum. However, they
live in hopes of better days. The State grant to their
schools has meant a material increase in their personal
income. They, of course, claim it as a relief to their
parishioners, but in point of fact the special collections
they make for their schools are and always were
insignificant.

The cardinal usually assists the poorest missions,
in some of which, as at Ongar in my time, there are
not a score of Catholics; at least Cardinal Manning
did, though Cardinal Vaughan withdrew most of his
predecessor's allowances. They were more afraid of
having money taken from them by Cardinal Vaughan

OTHER ORDERS 179

than of the contrary, and they filled up their statistical
papers with much ingenuity. Cardinal Manning took
little interest in the incomes and expenditures of his
clergy, but as soon as Vaughan arrived they all re-
ceived a detailed form to fill in and return, giving
an account of their receipts and expenses. Unfor-
tunately the cardinal made a canonical slip in sending
the same paper to the secular and to the monastic
clergy ; the latter are not responsible to him for
their conduct qua monks, but only qua parish priests.
They therefore held an indignation meeting and pro-
tested, with the result that a new form had to be
printed which distinguished between their parochial
property and income and their monastic affairs, and
only demanded an account of the former. Needless
to say, the replies were very discreet; it is said that
the Dominicans returned a blank sheet.

On the whole the relation of the secular clergy to
their archbishop ^ may be described as one of good-
natured tolerance. He was not popular in the north,
and he is not popular in the south. He is kind and
affa!)le, and always leaves a good impression after a
visit to a priest. Not so inflexible as his predecessor
— in fact, it is complained that he is too easily influ-
enced— he is a prelate of unquestionable earnestness
and sincerity. But he had the misfortune to step
into the slices of a great man, and he has acted
unwisely in endeavouring to tread in his predecessor's
footsteps instead of confining his attention to the

1 It is, perhaps, of interest to leave in the text this lengthy
refcreiico to (Jardinal Vau^'han. It niUHt be understood, Iiowevcr,
that it does not refer to the present Archbisliop, of whom I know
nothing. I'hird edition.

180 OTHER ORDERS

administration of the archdiocese. The intense activity
which has kept him continually on the move since
he entered the diocese, and which has so rapidly aged
him, has had little or no palpable result, and has
certainly not deepened the attachment of his clergy.
His predecessor remained day after day in his little
room at Carlyle Place ; the world came to him and
sought his influence.

Yet with all his activity and the perpetual flutter-
ing of aristocratic wings in his vicinity he cannot give
the financial aid to his clergy which his predecessor
did. One of his first cares was to change the existing
financial , arrangements, cutting off many allowances
and commanding new contributions. He had a perfect
right to do so; but when, after so many economical
measures, he confessed in his Trinity Sunday pastoral
that he could not reach the income of his predecessor
his clergy felt Uttle sympathy. In the same pastoral
he preached a panegyric of the aristocracy which gave
great offence, and he gave a comparison of the con-
tributions of five West End churches and five East
End churches, which was not quite accurate, was
hardly fair, and was certainly impolitic. However,
he has made many wise changes in the distribution
of his clergy and other improvements that Cardinal
Manning had strangely neglected. When the time
comes it will not be a light task to find a worthy
successor to Cardinal Vaughan,'

^ The Vaughan family is a remarkable one ; of the seven brothers
six became prominent ecclesiastics. Koger died Archbishop of
Sydney ; Herbert is cardinal ; Bernard, the Jesuit, is the lirst
Catholic preacher in England ; Jerome is the founder of a new
order ; Kenelm is a world-wide missionary : John is a monsignore.

OTHER ORDERS 181

The same may be said of the education of secular
priests as of that of regulars ; in fact, the observations
in the preceding chapter apply to the clergy generally.
The classical and mathematical training of the seculars
is slightly better than that of the friars; otherwise
the curriculum is much the same. Their philosophical
and theological studies in the seminary have been
equally disorderly and precipitate. They have had
no serious introduction either to the thought of past
ages (beyond the thirteenth century) or to the Uving
thoughts of our own day. They read little and know
little beyond the interminable Anglican controversy.
The laity are coerced into literary apathy, and con-
sequently the stimulus to study is absent.

About five years ago the cardinal realised that his
priests were not up to date, and that they were really
unable to bring themselves adequately in touch with
modern thought, so he instituted a kind of intellectual
committee to sit upon modern questions, and report
to the majority. A dozen of the better-informed
London priests constituted it, and they met occasion-
ally to discuss, especially social questions and the
biblical question. I remember procuring a large
amount of socialistic literature for certain members
who wished to study both sides. When the members
of this new Areopagus had come to a few decisions,
they were to enlighten their less studious or less
leisured brethren by a series of small books. Those

It is said that John attempted a smart aphorism on the family ; he
himself represcuttMl thowjIU, Bernard word, and Herbert deed.
When Bernard hrard it he cauHtically added, " and Jerome
omissim." The allusion is to the Catholic classification of sins-
sins of thought, word, deed, and omission.

182 OTHER ORDERS

books have not yet appeared. The fact that the pro-
posed writers (to my knowledge) dare not print their
true ideas on the above problems at present may not
be unconnected with the delay. A Jesuit writer,
about the same time, began a series of explanatory
and very dogmatic articles on the critical question
in the Tablet, but he was immediately cut to pieces
by other CathoUc writers. The Jesuits have also
published a series of volumes of scholastic philo-
sophy in English. The student will find in them an
acquaintance with modern science and philosophy
which is rarely found In the scholastic metaphysician.
Unfortunately they are little better on the main
lines of argument than a translation of the discarded
Latin manuals. They follow disused shafts of thought
much too frequently to be of value. The more im-
portant volumes seem to have been entrusted to the
less important men; and whilst there is much acute
criticism of minor topics, the treatment of the more
profound problems is very unsatisfactory — such theses
as the spirituality of the soul and the existence and
infinity of God being merely supported by the old
worn-out arguments.

What has been said of the perpetual intrigues of
the monastic clergy does not apply so forcibly to the
secular priests. Each monastery is a small world in
itself, and contains nearly as many officers as privates ;
to the secular clergy the number of possible appoint-
ments is very slight in proportion to their numbers,
and thus the fever of ambition is less widespread.
There is naturally a certain amount of intrigue for
the wealthier parishes, but few of the priests have
any ambition beyond the desire to settle down as

OTHER ORDERS 183

rector of some comfortable and respectable congrega-
tion. In a witty French book a benevolent parent
gives as a supreme counsel to his son who has become
a priest, " Arrondissez-vous." A few may then aspire
to the dignity of dean of their district, or to the title
of " missionary rector." But so far there is no differ-
ence from tlie clergy of any other denomination; the
genuine Roman fever only begins with the narrow
circle of those who presume to aspire to the title of
monsignore, or even of canon of the diocese. The
dignity of monsignore is not a very significant one ;
it may or may not be a reward of merit. Any wealthy
priest of good family may receive it as a mere com-
pliment. I know one monsignore who received hia
purple because he had given a few thousand pounds
to my colleagues, and another (a very worthy man, but
painfully commonplace) who got it for his attentions
to a distinguished visitor from Rome.

Even canons, as a rule, are very feeble and harm-
less conspirators; they are generally old men, who
are more conspicuous for quantity than quality of
service, but have usually sufficient discretion left to
know that they are not expected to aspire any higher.
In matters of ordinary administration their long ex-
perience is often useful to the bishop, with whom
they form the chapter of the diocese, but otherwise
they have not a very grave responsibility. The same
may be said of the titular bishops, or those whose
titles are in partU)Us ivfidclium — the " suffragans "
of the Anglican hierarchy. The cardinal (or any

' The wordhasadiir.'ioiit iiieaiiiiif,' amongst Catholics ; asuirnij,'an
is any bishop under an archbisliop. All the bishops of England
are suffragani to the cardinal-archbishop.

184 OTHER ORDERS

important bishop) has a number of advisers quite
outside his chapter, experts in canon law, professors
of theology, &c., who are generally mutually hostile
and contradictory, and from their opinions he finally
deduces a course of action.

There is little excitement or intrigue over the
election to an unimportant bishopric. A private
income is as good a qualification as any where the
diocese is small and poor, and no great energy is
required for its administration. When the bishopric
of Clifton fell vacant a few years ago, it was laugh-
ingly whispered in clerical circles that the first con-
dition required in the candidate was the possession
of the modest private income of £250 a year. When
an important see is vacant there is more wire-pulling,
both in the locality and at Rome; for the diocese has
not a decisive vote in the election of its bishop. The
canons meet and decide upon three names to send
to Rome as dignissimus , dignior, and dignus. But
the Pope frequently changes the order, and sometimes
(as in Manning's election) entirely disregards the
ternum.

Thus it is that every prominent ecclesiastic, whether
he be bishop, priest, or monk (for a monk may be
raised to the episcopate without intermediate stages),
is a continuous object of jealous observation and
intrigue, in view of the possible cardinals' hats or
bishoprics. The state of things described in Purcell's
" Life of Manning " is only exceptional in that the
Church in England is not likely again to have such a
number of able men simultaneously. The jealousy,
hostility, meanness, and persecution therein described
are familiar incidents in the life of every " great

OTHER ORDERS 185

ecclesiastical statesman," as Manning is most aptly
called. And it must not be imagined that the picture
is at all complete — it is not by any means as darkly
shaded as the reaUty. No Catholic could in con-
science tell all that is handed down in clerical circles
with regard to the relations of Manning, Newman,
Ward, the Jesuits, &c. And although the author
has made a generous concession in the cause of his-
torical truth, the public have not had the full benefit
of his sincerity. If the book could have been pub-
lished in its original form, it would have been much
more interesting, but after spending two years in
purgatorial flames as it did, we must take it with
discretion. Some of my colleagues were intimate with
the author's brother, and gave us continual reports
of the painful progress of the work. About two
years before its appearance we were told that it was
finished, and some very spicy letters and anecdotes
were i)romised. Then there were rumours of war;
the defenders of Manning, the supporters of Ward,
the Jesuits, and others threatened legal action, and
the work was much " bowdlerised." On the whole,
the impression of those who seemed to be in the secret
was tliat Newman had been treated by all parties in
a manner that dare not be made pubUc, and that
there were documents kept back which would throw
much discredit upon all other prominent Catholics of
the i)eriod. We must not suppose, however, that
Newman was the meek victim of all this intrigue,
liishop Paterson, who knew him well, once described
him in my presence as " a tiger by nature, an angel
by grace."

However undesirable such a state of things may

186 OTHER ORDERS

be, it is no other than any disinterested person would
expect. The Church cannot change its character in
a da}', and its past history, hke the history of every
priesthood under the sun, is throughout marred by
such weaknesses. The hfe of Cardinal Pie in France,
though written by a Catholic for Catholics, gives one
the same impression ; the relations of the Irish pre-
lates (one of whom is " primate of Ireland," and
another " primate of all Ireland,") and of the American
prelates are quite analogous ; and Rome itself is a
school of diplomacy and intrigue of no gentle charac-
ter. Such things are inevitable, and it is a clumsy
device to attempt to conceal them and support the
idea that ecclesiastical dignitaries are only guided by
preternatural influences.

The condition of Catholicism in London is a matter
of anxious discussion, even in clerical circles. As will
be explained subsequently, grave doubts are expressed
as to whether the Church is making any progress at
all in England, and especially in London. Catholic
journals are not unlike Egyptian monuments ; they
write large (and in good round numbers) the con-
quests of their Church, but they do not see the need
for chronicling its losses. Of converted Anglican
ministers they speak with warmth and eloquence ; of
seceding priests they are silent — until some incident
brings them into public notice, when they publish a
series of reckless attacks on them and refuse to insert
their explanations. Once or twice, however, notices
of meetings have crept in at which the opinion has
been maintained by priests that the Church is really
losing, instead of making that miraculous progress
which the average layman believes. Great numbers

OTHER ORDERS 187

of Catholics imagine that as soon as the Church of
England is disestablished ^ and thus thrown directly
upon the support of the people it will vanish almost
immediately. I once heard Bishop Paterson explain
that it was undesirable to work for disestablishment
just yet, because we Catholics really had not nearly
sufficient accommodation for the vast flood of converts
that would ensue; we should be quite disorganised.

In point of fact there should be now about a quarter
of a million Catholics in London, whereas the Daily
News census shows that only 90,000 attend church,
and the total number cannot therefore be more than
120,000. Throughout England the ratio of the
Catholic population is about 1 in 20, but it is much
higher in Lancashire, much lower in London and other
places. In Cardinal Maiming's time the figures were
vague and disputable. When Cardinal Vaughan came
down in a hurricane of zeal a census was made of the
archdiocese ; but the exact figures only established the
truth of the pessimistic theory. It was thought that
Catholicism did not really know its strength, and that
it would be well to proclaim its formidable statistics
to the world ; but when the result of the census was
known, it was whispered indeed from priest to priest,
but with a caution that the cardinal did not wish to
see it in print.

I have not seen tiie exact figures — I do not suppose
they ever passed tlie archbishop's study in writing — •
but I was informed by reliable priests that out of the
small Catholic population of London between 70,000

1 A Catholic is bound in conscience to desire— to work for, if
possible— the disestablishnient of the Anf^'lican Church : then ho is
equally bound to work fur Ihc catablLshnRut of his own.

188 OTHER ORDERS

and 80,000 never went near a church — had practic-
ally abandoned the Church. I have explained that
the positive ceremonial obligations (to hear mass) of
a Catholic are so grave that a continued neglect of
them puts a man outside the pale of the Church.
Most priests can ascertain with some confidence how
many nominal Cathohcs there are in their district —
that is to say, how many ought to be Cathohcs by
parentage, baptism, education, &c. By subtracting
from this the average number of attendances at mass
on Sunday (an obligatory service) they should have
the number of renegades. So, also, the priest can
make a minimum calculation from his school-children
— multiply the number of children by five, and you
have the population (though in some places many
Catholic children attend Board Schools); and the
number of marriages affords a maximum indication.

Disagreeable as the general statement is, a few
details will show that it must be rather tmder than
over the truth. The priest, as a rule, hkes to give as
roseate an account as possible of his flock, so that in
the aggregate there is probably a great loss in point
of accuracy. In the parish of Canning Town in East
London there are about 6000 nominal Cathohcs ; 5000
of these never come near the church. I was dining
with F. Hazel the day the form to be filled arrived,
and saw him write it. We measured the church and
found that, filling the doorsteps and arch ledges, it
Avould not contain more than 400; certainly not a
thousand, mostly children, came to mass on Sundays,
and Easter confessions were proportionate. A question
was asked. How many of your youths (15-21) attend
their duties? About five per cent, was the answer.

OTHER ORDERS 189

The income of the parish was deplorable ; the vast
territory it embraces is full of poor Irish families
who live less religiously and not more virtuously than
pagans.

At Barking there are more than 200 children in
the schools, and the number is not at all complete,
and there are not more than fifty adults who attend
church ; at Grays there is the same condition. A
few years ago a zealous priest, F. Gordon Thompson,
determined to start a mission in a neglected part of
East London — Bow Common ; his aim was necessarily
small, he could only hope to take care of the children
of nominal Catholics. In the first three streets he
visited he found 120 such children, and could go no
further; their parents he could not attempt to gather.
He told me that there were several other localities in
East London in precisely the same condition. In fact,
every parish in East London counts at least hundreds
of drifted Catholics. The circumstance is by no means
confined to poor districts, but it is more noticeable
in them ; ecclesiastics are naturally slow to undertake
and prosecute such unremunerative toil.

In the light of these details it will not be wondered
that there is so great a leakage from the Church that
the " converts " do not nearly fill the vacant space. '^
I have thought for many years, and have been con-
firmed in the opigion by many colleagues, that for

' I liavn since made caioful researcli into tlie matfer, and more
than cataMishi'd the tnitli of tliis. My conclusions are given in an
article in tho National lieriew for August 1901, and especially in
my "Decay of the Cliurch of Rome" (1909), where I liavo shown
that the Ohurcli of Rf)mc has lost at least two million and a
quarter followers in England alone during the nineteenth century.
Third edition.

190 OTHER ORDERS

the last twenty years at least the Church of Rome
has made no progress in England, but has probably
lost in numbers, taking into account, of course, the
increase of a generation. The Church has made a
considerable number of converts, and it would be
fooUsh to question the earnestness of a large propor-
tion of them. At the same time the majority of them
are of such a class that the change has no deep
rehgious significance. There are thousands of ordinary
people whose only convictions, such as they are, regard
certain fundamental points of Christianity, and who
are drawn into one or other sect by the merest accident
— by contact with a zealous or particularly affable
proselytiser, by the influence of relatives, by kindness,
taste, and a host of non-religious considerations. In
fact it is only too clear (and not unnatural) that many
associate with the Church of Rome out of purely
aesthetic considerations. It is well known that many
of the much vaunted converts of Farm Street and of
Brompton are simply aesthetes, who are attracted by
the sensuous character of the services.

Matrimonial considerations are also very powerful
agents in the cause of the Church. Many Catholic
priests and families insist upon " conversion " before
admitting a non-Catholic to matrimonial relation.
The only " convert " I am responsible for was a young
lady who was engaged to be mai-ried to a Catholic ;
she drank in my instructions like water, never find-
ing the slightest intellectual difiiculty ; and a few
years afterwards, being jilted by him, she happily
returned to Anglicanism with the same facility. One
of my colleagues was summoned to attend a Catholic
who was seriously ill. The wife met him at the door,

OTHER ORDERS 191

and asked him to "be careful, because her husband
was only a marriage-convert." When inter-marriage
is allowed, the Church exacts several promises in her
favour ; all children of the marriage must be brought
up Catholics, the non-Catholic partner must promise
not to interfere in any way with the religion of the
Catholic parent and children — and then the Catholic
is separately bound to do all in his or her power to
convert the other.

Schools, too, are proselytising agencies. In board-
ing-schools kept by nuns, to which Protestant girls
are frequently sent, it is regarded as a sacred duty to
influence the children as much as possible, no matter
what promises are made to the parents. Elementary
public schools are not only the most effective guardians
of their own children, but also help to extend Catholic
influence. Like the consideration which has been pre-
viously mentioned, it is not one to which the clergy
give political prominence, but it is certainly an
important item in their secret programme.

CHAPTER X

COUNTRY MINISTRY

After four years' experience of the life which has
been described in the preceding pages, I was not un-
willing to find some means of escape. Besides the
uncongenial environment in which I found myself, my
religious troubles had increased every year, until at
length I found myself consciously speculating on the
possibiUty of being ultimately forced to secede. The
prospect was naturally very painful and alarming, and
I resolved to use every honourable means to avert it.
However, in the increasing cares of the ministry I
could not secure the necessary time for sustained
study. I was relieved from monastic duties, and also
from parochial work, on account of my professorship :
I never visited or received visitors until the last six
months of my monastic career. Still, as preacher,
confessor, instructor, and professor, I was continually
distracted and failing in health, and I eagerly grasped
an opportunity of retiring from London.

The authorities of our province had at length
decided to take action for the improvement of our
studies, and F. David was directed to found a new
college for the preparatory studies. He had a large
but vague idea that the college was ultimately to be

192

COUNTRY MINISTRY 193

connected with Oxford University, and sent down a
friar of high reputation for economy to make inquiries
in that region. However, no land could be obtained
at their price nearer than Buckingham, and there the
friar established himself.

The friar lived in the vicinity during the progress
of the building, which was erected principally on
borrowed funds, as is usual with Roman Cathohc in-
stitutions. Knowing that the financial prospects of
the college were precarious, the good friar set himself
to live with great economy and store up a little against
the oiJcning of the establishment. He had an excel-
lent reputation for economy already : he knew all the
halfpenny 'buses in London, and patronised shops
where a cup of tea could be had for a halfpenny.
However, he surpassed himself at Buckingham. He
read by the light of a street lamp which shone in at
his window (thus saving the cost of oil), had no
servant, and achieved the fabulous feat of living on
sixpence per day ^ during a long period. Being forced
at length to keep a lay-brother he chose a poor little
ascetic who, he knew, was only too eager to find a
superior who would allow him to starve himself on
orthodox princi{)le.s.

When at length it was deemed expedient to remove
the zealous friar to another part of England, he had
saved the sum of £lOO. This he left to his successor,
who, accordingly, in recording his disappearance in the
" Annals " of the new college, added that he deserved
great praise for the efficient state in which he left the
mission. Hut tlie newcomer had quite a different

' The dint w.us Ijrcad, beer and cofTce, and tiiiiio<l meat. Fni
feast-dftys lie used a special meat wliicii cost a penny per tin moro.

194 COUNTRY MINISTRY

theory of life. He agreed with Francis of Assisi that
it was irreverent to make provision for the morrow ;
and so he made himself comfortable in the little
cottage they had rented, and religiously trusted to
Providence for the future of the college. The income
was also doubled through a kind of chaplaincy to the
Comte de Paris which he undertook, yet when I suc-
ceeded him my legacy consisted mainly of wine and
spirit bills (paid) and emptj^ bottles.

In the meantime the councillors were again at
loggerheads over the choice of a rector. F. David
had asked me to volunteer for the post, and, for the
reasons already given, and from a sincere desire to
help in reforming our studies, I did so. Subsequent
proceedings, however, disgusted me to such an extent
that for a time I refused to take it, and several
authorities, knowing that I would now have to work
in the face of much intrigue and secret opposition,
wished to save me from it. I was finally appointed,
and entered upon my duty willingly and with earnest
and honest purpose. I had incurred the bitter but
secret hostility of those who were ostensibly respons-
ible for my financial success ; I knew that the province
was almost universally hostile to the new foundation ;
my parish, of some twelve miles in extent, contained
only three poor Catholics; and I had eight pupils who
paid between them the collective sum of .£80 per
annum. I had now entered the troubled waters of
ecclesiastical intrigue, and I give a few details in
illustration of that interesting experience.

Immediately after my arrival the cabinet ministers
of the fraternity — who had prudently sent me a ten
pound note in advance — came to the college to hold a

COUNTRY MINISTRY 195

two days' conference. During those two days the
little college resounded with loud but, unhappily, in-
articulate discourse. When it was over I demanded
instructions from the provincial, a worthy but obtuse
old friar, who, by some curious freak of diplomacy,
had been pushed into the highest position. He blandly
replied that he had no instructions for me. I (aged
twenty-seven) was to be chief professor and rector,
superior of the house, instructor of the lay-brothers,
parish priest — everything, in short ; with carte blanche
to make any regulations, programme of study, or
domestic discipline that I desired. I was even free
to adopt or not the " closure " (excluding ladies). I
then turned to the delicate financial question, and was
promptly assured that the whole of this responsibility
had been undertaken by one of the definitors. I
afterwards ascertained that neither the provincial nor
the other councillors had any idea of the financial con-
dition of the institution. I warned him that the
definitor in question was known to be anxious for my
ruin and humiliation (for my spiritual good), and that
the others could not shift their responsibility. He
smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and departed. I never
saw him again.

Under these auspicious circumstances I opened the
college of St. Bernardine, a large and handsome build-
ing, in spacious grounds just outside Buckingham, in
October 1895. During the five months I remained
there I received no help from the friar of whom they
had spoken ; at the end of the time ne stood in my
debt. I knew that he had another and more docile
candidate waiting for the rectorship, and that he had
openly cxi)rcssed his intention of letting me " sink."

196 COUNTRY MINISTRY

However, other friars came to my assistance, and I
left the college comparatively prosperous when I
abandoned it.

I had one associate in teaching, a young and kindly
but ignorant priest, so that a curious assortment of
classes fell to my lot. I taught Latin grammar,
French, Euclid, algebra, physics, and a little Greek.
And the difficulty of educating the boys was increased
by my complete ignorance of the term they were to
remain under me. I remonstrated with the authorities
in vain ; they were in utter discord themselves, and
left everything to chance. Some of them hoped that
the institution would fail. To enUven still further
the monotony of our country life there was a revolt of
the two servants or lay-brothers, occasioned by my
checking their beer accounts. They were both older
than myself, selfish, unsympathetic, and impatient
of discipline. The authorities refused to remove
them.

At the same time the bishop of the diocese was
piteously calling my attention to the condition of the
district, and putting a new charge on my shoulders.
There was evidently more duphcity on this point. I
was informed that there was no parish attached to
the college; the bishop understood that there was,
and had promised me a map of it. It mattered little,
for the " parish " would consist of an enormous extent
of territory containing three Catholics known and three
or four suspected. The town of Buckingham (con-
taining 3000 inhabitants) boasts of one Roman Catholic,
who, with rustic diplomacy, attended early service at
the parish church and mass afterwards at the college.
He was my gardener. The whole diocese of North-

COUNTRY MINISTRY 197

ampton is a spiritual desert to the Catholic mind. It
is the most extensive in England, yet contains only
a few thousand Catholics.

At Buckingham I was expected to re-kindle the
light of the ancient faith in a very short time. My
predecessors had left glowing accounts of the ripeness
of the harvest. But I soon found that the easy
tolerance, if not cordiality, of the townsfolk had quite
a different meaning. The presence of the French
soi-disant royal family had done much to remove the
unreasonable prejudice against Catholics which is
found in many agricultural districts. Stowe House
had been the chief support of the little town ; and
when the Orleanist family dejjarted, after the death
of the Count, the town was prepared to receive with
open arms any institution that would help to fill the
void in its commerce. The college was built just at
that moment, and as my colleagues predicted for it
a rapid and unhmited growth, it was warmly wel-
comed by the inhabitants, who, no doubt, religiously
steeled their hearts at the same time against its assumed
proselytising purpose. In fact, I found that one or
two men who had been noted by my predecessors as
likely to prove the first and easiest converts were con-
firmed agnostics wiio had keenly enjoyed the simplicity
of my predecessors. It was soon felt that I was not
of a proselytising disposition — apart from the insecurity
of my own position, I am afraid that I never sufficiently
realised the gravity of tlie condition of our Anglican
nciglibours — and tlie college worked in complete
harmony with the Protestant clergy and laity of the
vicinity.

Of my own diocesan colleagues I hardly made the
H

198 COUNTRY MINISTRY

acquaintance. The nearest priest of my own diocese
was at a distance of twelve miles to the south ; the
next, fourteen miles to the north; and there, as else-
where, the secular clergy do not fraternise with monks.
I was noM^, however, bound to put in an appearance
at the casuistry conferences which are held periodic-
ally, as has been explained. A diocese is divided into
deaneries, and the rectors are summoned every month
to a conference at the dean's residence. A programme
is printed for each year in which a casus — an incident
for moral diagnosis and prescription — is appointed for
each conference; a few questions are added which
serve to ehcit the principles of casuistry on which the
" ease " must be solved. A priest is appointed to
read the case, solve it, and answer the questions at
each meeting; all are then invited by the dean or
president to express their opinions in turn, and, as the
casus is usually very complicated, a long discussion
generally follows.^ Nearly every point in casuistry is
disputed, and arguments are abundant in the modern
Latin manuals — Lehmkuhl, Ballerini, Palmieri, &c.
The final decision rests with the president.

A conference in a populous diocese is a very exciting
ceremony; rival schools of theology are represented

^ The casios are ahvays in Latin : tlie following may serve as
a specimen :— Titius steals a watch from the person of a cleric in
church. This he sells to Cains, and nothing further is heard of
him. The priest at length identifies his watch in the possession of
Caius and claims it, satisfactorily proving it to be his property.
Caius refuses to return the watch until his money is returned and
the thief cannot be traced.

Q. 1. How many kinds of sacrilege are there ?

Q. 2. How many sins did Titius commit ?

Q. 3. How is the case to be solved ?

Such a case would provoke hours of controversy.

COUNTRY MINISTRY 199

voung priests are pitted against old ones, and the
more ambitious are eager to make an impression. But
at Northampton our conference was very tame. Only
ten priests could be assembled out of a very wide
territory, and they were far from being brilliant theo-
logians. A desultory and not very instructive con-
versation ensued after the case had been read, and in
the middle of it the bell rang for lunch, which seemed,
of the two, to be the more important function for
which we were convened.

The life of a priest in a country parish is usually
very dull and monotonous ; in our diocese it was not
unlike the life of a foreign missionary, so few Catholics
there were in the vast territory. I had one parishioner
in the town, a poor ignorant creature whose faith was
very closely connected with his works ; another at a
distance of four miles, who was a doubtful acquisition
to the Church ; a third, five miles away, who patiently
submitted to being called a CathoUc ; and a fourth, or
rather an excellent family, about eight miles away,
who had been effectually scared from us by my prede-
cessors. The three or four mythical CathoUc harvest-
men and waslierwomen, whom a diocesan tradition
located somewhere witliin the limits of my twelve-mile
district, I never met in the flesh. Most of the other
priests in the diocese had rather more souls to care
ior, but rarely sufficient to provide a maintenance.
They were poor, and could not travel much ; they had
few parishioners with whom they could have congenial
intercourse ; they were widely separated from each
other, and had neillier books nor inclination to study.
The life of an Anglican clergyman in a small country
parish is not one to be envied : a priest has the

II 2

200 COUNTRY MINISTRY

additional disadvantage of no family, and usually
hostile neighbours.

When I had at length introduced a certain amount
of method into the college and of discipline into my
small community, my thoughts reverted to the per-
sonal object I had in view in leaving London. Surprise
is often expressed that the number of seceders from
the Roman Catholic priesthood is not higher. Apart
from the fact that few people know the number of
seceders, as will appear presently, a little reflection
on two points, which I have already adduced, will
help to explain the matter. In the first place, the
philosophical and theological studies of the priest have
been stunted, one-sided, and superficial. Very few
of the clergy have continued the work at a university,
and even there the studies would again be narrow and
superficial. They plunge into active parochial work
immediately after their ordination; they have no
stimulus to, and httle continuous time for, study —
except a little casuistry — while, on the other hand,
there is ample opportunity and pressing invitation to
dissipate their time and wits in agreeable triviaUties.
Under such circumstances they feel disposed to regard
Wellhausen and Kuenen (or even Sayce and Cheyne),
Huxley and Spencer, White and Draper, and even
Protestant divines, as so many literary hedgehogs.
Their scholastic system was plausible enough when the
professor urged it upon them, and they give no
further thought to the subject. Add to this the fact
that most of them are Irish, and the buoyant Celtic
temperament does not take religious doubt very
seriously; no one knows into what depths of study
or seas of trouble it may lead. In the educated lay-

COUNTRY MINISTRY 201

man that temperament is sceptical enough, though it
is a careless, lighthearted scepticism, not obtrusive and
not very consistent ; in the priest the same disposition
leads to a natural reluctance to take any steps that
may involve a violent dislocation, and carries with it a
habit of deprecating a Quixotic effort to attain mathe-
matical i)recision and consistency of thought.

And if it happens that doubts do enter into the
minds of the clergy (and in familiar intercourse with
them one soon finds that they are not uncommon—
I have sometimes heard priests openly express the
most cynical scepticism), what time has the ordinary
priest to make a sincere and protracted study of his
opinions? With all my privileges and opportunities
for study, it cost me the better part of ten years of
constant reading and thought to come to a final and
reliable decision. The fact that the actual seceders
from the Church are usually men who have had
special opportunity and a marked disposition for study
is significant enough ; the fact that few emerge from
the ordinary ranks of the clergy with convictions firm
enough t(j face the painful struggle of secession should
not be surjjrising. Active external occupation banishes
doubt from consciousness. To deliberately resort to it
for that purpose would be dishonest ; few men would
subscribe to the Catholic rule, that doubt must be
supjjrcssed at once, yet it is the ordinary fate of the
clergyman. I experienced a relief myself during the
initial labours for my college, but once my work
dro|)i)cd into some kind of routine, the old questions
reappeared, and I determined to answer them, cost
what it might.

My doubts were of a i)hilosophical and fundamental

202 COUNTRY MINISTRY

character. I had felt that, until the basic truths of
religion were firmly assented to, the Anglican con-
troversy had little interest for me, and even the biblical
question was of secondary importance. Accordingly
most of my time from my first introduction to philo-
sophy was spent, dii-ectly or indirectly, in investigating
the fundamental problems. I had read all the litera-
ture which could possibly be of use to me in forming
my judgment, and I had been guided (as far as he
could do so) by a man who is thought most competent
for that purpose. All that remained was to survey
the evidence as it had accumulated in my memory, and
form a severe and well-weighed decision upon it. I
drew up on paper the points round which my doubts
centred, and added from memory all the arguments I
had met in my protracted search. I was not at all
influenced by hostile writers, of whom I had read very
little, and I had never discussed the questions with
any non-Catholic. The sole question was. Is the evi-
dence I have collected satisfactory or not? During
the Christmas vacation I settled resolutely to my task,
and uninterruptedly, all day and half the night, I
went solemnly back over the ground of my studies.
Point by point the structure of argument yielded
under the pressure. Before many days a heavy and
benumbing consciousness weighed upon me that I was
drifting out into the mist and the unknown sea. And
it was on Christmas morning, 1895, after I had cele-
brated three masses, while the bells of the parish
church were ringing out the Christ-message of peace,
that, with a great pain, I found myself far out from
the familiar land — homelessly, aimlessly drifting. But
the bells were right, after all; from that hour I have

COUNTRY MINISTRY 203

been wholly free from the nightmare of doubt that
had lain on me for ten years.

The literature that I had studied during the preced-
ing years was principally Latin and French. I had,
naturally, looked for evidence in the vast arsenal of
Catholic apologetics, and though my study has beers
greatly extended since, I am not sure that any dia-
lectically firmer evidence is available. The Kantist and
Hegelian philosophies, and all that is grounded on
eitlier or both. Green, Fiske, Lotze, Iloyce, Caird, have
left me untouched. The philosophy of the Scotch
school, from Reid to Hamilton, is only plausible in so
far as it is Aristotelic, and therefore a repetition of
the scholastic system. Martineau also is unwittingly
scholastic in his better passages, and he is too much
disposed to that " extra-rational " proof which ap-
pealed to Mr. Romanes in his later years : for my part,
I would not take a single serious step in this life oil
extra-rational proof, and I fail to see why it is a surer
guide to the next. Thus I came to attach most im-
portance to the schoolmen and the writers who adapt
their principles to modern thought. I studied with
extreme care St. Thomas, St. Bonaventure, Scotus,
Suarez, Vasquez, Pontius, Herinx, and a host of other
veterans ; also an infinity of smaller modern writers,
Tongiorgi, Sanseverino, Lepidi, Pesch, Moigno,
Zigliara, Rosmini, Lacordaire, Monsabre, Zahn, Het-
tinger, &c.

Amongst English Catholic literature there was little
to be read. In my younger days I had been taught
to shelter myself under the authority of the great
Newman : it was a very few years before I found that
that was ratlier a compromising position for a philo-

204 COUNTRY MINISTRY

sopher. There is an old adage in the schools that " in
philosophy an authority is worth just as much as his
arguments, and no more." Newman is the last guide
in the world to choose in philosophical matters. The
key to his line of thought is found in the inscription
(epitaph, one feels tempted to say) of liis one philo-
sophical work, " The Grammar of Assent " — a text
from St. Ambrose, " Not by logic hath it pleased God
to save His people." Newman was penetrated with
that edifying sentiment, hence it is not surprising to
find how faithfully he acts upon it in constructing the
existence of God and the divinity of Christ. His one
witness to God's existence is conscience (he says in
one of his sermons that without it he would be an
atheist), and under his ceaseless attentions conscience
becomes a faculty which few ordinary human beings
will recognise. His treatment of it is anything but
scientific ; it is liighly imaginative and grossly anthropo-
morplaic. The text from St. Ambrose is principally
intended as a gauntlet for his rival, Dr. Ward ; still,
it is true that Newman had a profound contempt for
metaphysics, and, hke most people who much despise
it, had no knowledge whatever of that science. It is
usually assumed that Newman was a traditionalist,^
but his poetical and unscientific method seems rather
attributable to a wholesome dread of Kant; not that
he shows evidence of intimate acquaintance with
Kant's Critique, but he seems to have been vaguely
convinced that Kant had undermined all metaphysical

^ Traditionalism was an important lieresy within the bounds
of the Church, which was elfectually extinguished. It rejjrobated
entirely the use of reason in supra -sensible matters and advocated
authority as the sole guide.

COUNTRY MINISTRY 205

research, and his own splendid literary p>ower enabled
hiui to make a plausible defence of his opinions with-
out the aid of philosophy. He is obviously no guide
for a serious scientific mind.

His rival, Dr. Ward, also a prominent figure in the
Oxford Movement, was the very antithesis of New-
man. Newman used to speak contemptuously of the
'* dry bones " of Ward's logic, and evidently con-
sidered that his own works clothed them and made
them attractive. Ward was an able dialectician, a
subtle metaphysician, and a vigorous writer. His
" Philosophy of Theism " is the best English defence
of the scholastic philosophy, but is incomplete. J. S.
Mill was leading him to the critical points of the
system in a famous controversy, but it ended pre-
maturely with Mill's death.

Dr. Mivart was certainly the most influential writer
on the Catholic side of his day, and the most competent
to discuss the eternal problems in the light in which
they presented themselves to the nineteenth century.
Issuing, as he did, from the Darwinian school, it is
natural to find in him a breadth of view and serious-
ness of treatment that distinguish his works from those
of clerical apologists. But Mivart was no meta-
physician ; hence his psychological criticism of Dar-
winism— his chief original contribution — rests on the
enumeration of striking points of difference between
animal and human faculties which are losing their
force with every advance of science, and may yet be
fully harmonised. On otiier points, such as tlie free-
dom of the will, the evolution of ethics, and the origin
of the universe, he is extremely feeble ; and he has a
disposition to waste his strength upon the criticism

206 COUNTRY MINISTRY

of accidental phases and features of monism and
agnosticism rather than upon their essential destruc-
tiveness. He himself unconsciously gave me the key
to his position some time after I left the Church. In
a genial talk at the Oriental Club he admitted that he
liad little or no belief in even the most distinctive
dogmas of the Church. He literally laughed at the
■doctrine of the miraculous birth of Christ. " Do they
really teach that in the seminaries? " he asked. What
the limits of his scepticism were he seemed hardly to
know himself. Nor was this a mere failure of his
■later years ; it was a mature and resolute attitude.
Mivart was then (two years before his death) in full
vigour of mind and will. Yet I hasten to add that his
position was perfectly honest, and I appreciated it, as
be appreciated mine. He thought the Church of
Rome the greatest spiritual force in existence, and so
he would remain in it and help to remove the stress
it lays on belief. There are still many like him in
the Church, even amongst the clergy ; there are many
dn every Church to-day. But such a position accounts
for the weakness of his arguments on specific doctrines.
Of the Jesuit writers and their series of volumes on
scholastic philosophy I have already spoken. Father
Clarke and Father Maher are able and informed
writers. They have passed some sound criticism on
certain aspects of opposing systems, but they condemn
themselves to futility by their Quixotic defence of the
•arguments of St. Thomas and the medieval philosophy.
Of the Jesuit popular writers it is difficult to speak
with politeness. Mr. Lilly belongs to the Platonic or
sentimental group of apologists. Of Father Zahm
and other lingering representatives of the school for

COUNTRY MINISTRY 207

harmonising religion and science little need be said
l)eyond recalling the fate of their predecessors. Car-
dinal Manning's essay in apologetics hardly calls for
mention. He was a man of action, not of speculation
— certainly not a philosopher. His cast of mind is
well illustrated by his words to one who was urging
certain scientific statements in conflict with Genesis ;
without listening to them he blandly replied, like the
Anglican bishop whom Mr. Stead consulted about the
statements of the higher critics : "I don't beUeve
them."

I had now exhausted every possible means of con-
firnung myself in my position, and failed to do so.
Apart from the fact that at that time it seemed to
me that the loss of a belief in immortality made life
irremediably insii)id, I had fearful practical difficulties
to expect if I seceded. I had every prospect of suc-
cess in my position, or, if I preferred, I could have
passed to the ranks of the secular clergy without diffi-
culty. I consulted many friends and strangers, and I
was confirmed in my resolution to terminate my sacer-
dotal career, allowing a few weeks for possible change
of thought. As the manner of my secession curiously
illustrates certain features of Roman Catholic methods
and the general cpiestion of secession, I describe it af
some length in the following chapter.

CHAPTER XI

SECESSION

The Catholic layman has usually a fixed belief in
the absolute integrity of his priesthood. He may
entertain a suspicion of avarice, or indolence, or
woridliness with regard to certain individuals, but in
point of faith and morality he is quite convinced of
the invulnerability of his pastors. At wide intervals
a few may be found who are acquainted with the fact
of a secession, but the report is usually confined with
great care to the locality, and the Catholic press —
proof against all the ordinary temptations of the
journalist, when the honour of the Church is at stake
— carefully abstains from disseminating the unwelcome
news. Thus there are few laymen who know of more
than one secession, and who are prepared to admit
the possibility of a serious and conscientious withdrawal
from their communion. Indeed, there are few priests
who know that there have been more than a very
few secessions from their ranks, so carefully are such
events concealed wherever it is possible.

The secrecy is, of course, not the effect of accident,
for such incidents are not devoid of public interest,
and are matters of very deep concern to the Catholic
body. The Roman Church claims such a monopoly
of demonstrative evidence that it receives a check when

208

SECESSION 209

its credentials are rejected by one who is so familiar
with them ; it is — or would be, if it were frankly
admitted — a flat contradiction of their persistent teach-
ing that their claims only need to be studied to be
admitted. Hence the ecclesiastical policy is to conceal
a secession, if possible, and, when it is made public,
to represent it as dishonest and immoral. My own
position would not for a moment be admitted to be
bond fide. Tlie gentler of my colleagues seem to
think tiiat a "light" has been taken from me for
some inscrutable reason, whilst others have circulated
various hypotheses in explanation, such as pride of
judgment, the inebriation of premature honours, &c.
But of some of my fellow-seceders I had heard, before
I left the Church, the grossest and most calumnious
stories circulated ; pure and malicious fabrications they
were, simply intended to throw dust in the eyes of
the laity and to make secession still more painful. The
majority of priests, when questioned by Catholics about
a secession, will simply shake their heads and mutter
the usual phrase: "Wine and women."

But in the first instance every effort is made to
keep secession secret, even from clerics. I have
mentioned a case in the note on page 60 which is, I
think, known only to a small number of ecclesiastics;
the dignitary in (juestion had not discharged any public
function for some years, hence his disappearance was
unnoticed. I elicited the fact with some difficulty,
and was earnestly begged not to divulge it further.
On another occasion at Forest Gate, I was asked to
accompany a canon, who was giving a mission there
at tlic time, to a certain address in the district.
Noticing an air of secrecy about the visit, and a desire

210 SECESSION

on the part of the good canon that I should remain
outside, I entered the house with him, and found that
it was occupied by an " apostate " priest. So much I
learned by accident, but neither the canon nor my own
colleagues would give me the slightest information
about him. I never heard of him before or since,
and know nothing of his character : I merely mention
the incident as an illustration of the concealment of
secessions.

And not only is silence enjoined, but deliberate
falsehoods ^ are told with regard to seceders. One of
our superiors at Forest Gate seceded or " apostatised."
My colleagues deliberately told our parishioners that
he had gone on the foreign missions — some of them,
under pressure, giving details as to his destination;
though they knew that he had only retired to Southend-
on-Sea with the contents of the fraternal purse. I

^ It has been already explained that these are not looked upon
as falsehoods by Catholic theologians. The case given in the text
is a more direct deception than usual ; generally they are quibbles
and equivocations which are covered by their remarkably elastic
principles of mental reserve and of the necessity of avoiding scandal.
Here is another illustration : —

I was informed one day at Forest Gate that one of my students
had lodged a complaint against me with certain higher superiors.
The accusation was entirely erroneous ; the student had been de-
ceived by another, and I desired to undeceive him by explaining.
I accosted him immediately, and asked him if he had been com-
plaining about me. He not only emphatically denied it, but
endeavoured, by his manner, to give me the impression that it was
the last thing in the world he would dream of. When I told him
of the superior's words, he coolly replied that I had no right to
question him, so he was at liberty to deny it. He was a well-
educated man of thirty, the son of an Anglican minister, and,
before he joined us, a man of honour and courage. He had been
instructed to act as he did by the priests (hostile to me) with
whom he had lodged the accusation.

SECESSION 211

was myself informed for a week that he had gone
on the foreign missions, so that I could be relied
upon not to spoil the story. I believe that even the
cardinal was ignorant of the event, as a year afterwards
his brother made inquiries of me as to tlie fate of the
friar in question, of which he evidently knew nothing.

In these ways is the fiction of the preternatural
integrity of the Catholic clergy maintained. How
many priests have seceded from the Church in England
it is impossible to say, but they are certainly more
numerous than is usually supposed. They mingle
quietly with the crowd, and rarely even come to know
each other. ^ Many of them, such as Dr. Washington
Sullivan, Dr. Klein, Dr. Wells, Mr. Addis, Mr.
Hutton, Mr. Law, Mr. Galton, Mr. Sydney, or
Mr. Hargrave, are men of scholarly attainments, and
of high repute in the various bodies with which they
have associated.

If it is thought that the number is not large in
proportion to tlie number of priests in England, it must
be remembered that their education, literary acquire-
ments, and subsequent occupation are not of a nature
to unsettle their minds very seriously. But a still
more serious circumstance is the peculiarly painful
nature of the breach with the Church of Rome. A

* In tlic first cilition I said tliat I was "acquainted witli a
dozen, Imt tliere may be a f^ieatcr inunbcr. " Ry tliis time (1903)
I have heard of Croin forty to fifty secessions of priests in tliis
generation in Kn^^land. I jmhlislied some rcsearcii into tlic point
in liie Niitinnal liericio for April 1002. A few weeks afterwards a
furtlicr score of names, liitherto unknown to me, appeared in an
ecclesiastical column, and I have heard othcra since. 1 will only
say here that my own fraternity— and I know no reason for holding
it to be exceptional — lost twelve percent, of its priests by secession
within my recollection. Second edition.

212 SECESSION

breach with any lifelong communion is attended with
much pain, and this is greater in the case of the
minister of religion who finds himself impelled to that
violent wrench of the affections which conscience
occasionally dictates. He has formed definite habits
of thought and life and innumerable attachments, and
the severing of these is accompanied with a pain akin
to the physical pain of dislocation and the wrenching
asunder of nerves and fibres. In the Church of Rome,
at least, secession means farewell to the past — farewell
to whatever honour, whatever esteem and affection,
may have been gained by a life of industry and meiit.
The decree of the Church goes forth against the
" apostate." He is excommunicated — cursed in this
life and the next — and socially ostracised, if not
slandered. The many, the great crowd of admirers,
listen to every idle tale that is hatched against him;
the few, whose moral and humane instincts are too
deep to be thus perverted, can but offer a distant and
stealthy sympathy. He is cast out to recommence
life, socially and financially, in middle age; perhaps
he is homeless, friendless, and resourceless. A descrip-
tion of my own experience of the ordeal may be
instructive.

When I was forced at length to acknowledge that I
had lost all faith in my religious profession, I thought
to avail myself of my position as superior to en'ter
into secular life with more facility. I revealed my

state of mind to several non-Catholic acquaintances it

would have been fatal to my plans and quite useless
to reveal it to a Catholic— and they agreed that I must
withdraw, after a short time for reflection; only one
man, a prominent public man in London, thought that

SECESSION 213

I should be justified in remaining at my post/ I
began, therefore, to make inquiries and preparations
for a new departure. In the meantime I continued to
fulfil my duty to the college conscientiously — as a
matter of common honesty, and in order to give no
ground for subsequent calumny.

For the same reason I resolved to take no money
from the institution, though I felt that I should have
been justified in doing so to some extent. When the
superior of a monastery with which I was connected
left its walls, he took £50 with him " as a temporary
loan " ; that circumstance did not excite any par-
ticular discussion, and certainly there was no question
of prosecution for theft. Another friar ran away
with about £200. My own case, however, was of
quite a different character, and would be treated with
a very different policy. The two friars were not
genuine seceders from the Church. The second was
clearly a case of wanton revolt against discipline ; the
first was rather doubtful — he returned to penance after
a fruitless effort to find secular employment. In both
cases it was evidently the policy of the fraternity to
conceal the misdemeanour from the laity. These
two remained priests, and for the credit of the Church
and tiie prestige of its clergy their faults must be
concealed at all costs. But when a priest really secedes
from the Church the opposite policy is naturally
followed ; for the credit of the Church and the con-
fusion of its enemies the seceder must be placed in as
unfavourable a light as possible. I was too well
acfiuaintcd with esoteric ecclesiastical teaching to be
unjjrepared, so I determined to give them no handle.

' That waa the opinion of the late Mr. Stead. Third edition.

214 SECESSION

Studies were conducted with perfect regularity ; dis-
cipline was so severe that my inferiors chafed under
it; my accounts were balanced almost from day to
day.

At length, I was urgently entreated by a lady at
Forest Gate to take her into my confidence, for it
was seen that I was in great trouble. She was a clever,
well-educated person with whom I was particularly
friendly, and I told her of my intention, exacting
strict secrecy, and intimating that a revelation would
do me much injury, and that nothing could now detain
me. I got an hysterical reply imploring me to remain
in the Church, and saying that, in case of refusal, I
should hear no more from her. She had been my
kindest and closest friend in the Church of Rome;
but she kept her word, handed my letter to my
colleagues, and, so far as I know, she has never cared
to learn a word further about the fortunes and bitter
struggles of " the apostate."

A council of the fraternal cabinet was summoned
immediately at Manchester, and Father David
obtained discretionary power to act. It was certainly
the intention of my friend, and possibly of the
authorities, that Father David should induce me to
communicate my difficulties and endeavour to remove
them. He himself can hardly have expected that, as
his guidance had been exhausted years before. On
the night of his arrival he chatted amiably enough
with me over the usual glass of wine, but as soon as
he had closed the bank account in the morning, he
curtly informed me that I was deposed from my
position, and ordered to retire to the friary at
Chilworth, in Surrey.

SECESSION 215

This friary is in a very secluded locality, and
banishment to it was a recognised penal procedure.
It is the novitiate of the fraternity, and in it I should
be compelled to occupy all my time in formal religious
exercises, and should be entirely cut off from the
outside world, besides being expected to put my con-
fidence in a superior who knew nothing of philosophy,
and who would much rather burn an agnostic at the
stake than argue with him. It would have been utterly
useless for me to go there, now that my mind was
firmly convinced. I preferred to remain and com-
mence my new career with sympathetic friends. To
avoid unpleasantness, however, I said nothing of my
intention, and prepared to leave the college about the
time of the departure of the train ; but when formally
asked if I intended to take the train, I refused to
say. Meantime I had packed up my books, &c., and
sent them to a friend's house. I balanced my books,
and handed the surplus money to Father David, who
was good enough to offer me the fraternal kiss at my
departure ; I declined it. I thus turned my back
for ever, as I imagined, on monasticism, and hastened
down to meet one or two kind and sympathetic
friends.

The following morning I strolled down to my
friend's office, and was surprised to find him closeted
with a friar. It was one of my rebellious lay-brothers
(tliough he had obtained an interview under a priest's
name) who had brought a letter from the college. The
letter was to acquaint my friend with the fact that
a certain Mr. McC'abe, who had been left in " tem-
porary " charge of the college, had absconded with a
quantity of valuable property belonging thereto ; that

216 SECESSION

the said stolen property was understood to be on his
premises; and that he was informed, in a friendly
way, that the matter was in the hands of the police.
The writer signed himself M.A., though he had no
degree in arts. He might contend that he was a
" missionary apostoUc." As a commentary on the
letter, the friar gave my friend a long and interesting
critique of my public character and mental capacity,
and was turned out of the oifice. As it was impossible
to get immediate legal advice we decided to await
developments.

In point of fact, I knew there were a few books
amongst my own, overlooked in the hurry of departure,
which did belong to the college. I had fortunately
already told my friend of this, and we intended to
return them. But the complaint of my colleagues was
not on this ground at all. Although they did not
communicate with me on the subject — if they had done
so the same arrangement would have been made
without pohce-intervention — it appears that they
claimed everything I had removed, and even the
clothes I wore, which they expected me to ask of
them as an alms. The claim was ostensibly based
on my vow of poverty or abdication of the right of
property. The fact that the college was just as
incapable of ownership as I (on their pecuUar theory)
was ignored, and the new rector, Father David,
claimed them in the name of the college. They were
books and instruments (especially a telescope) which
friends had given me on various occasions (every friar
accumulates a quantity of such presents, which remain
his, for all practical purposes). Legally (for canon
law is happily not authoritative in England) they were

SECESSION 217

my property, and I had no hesitation in thinking
myself morally justified in retaining them after my
conscientious labours, and especially since most of
the donors were hardly aware of the college's existence,
and certainly meant the gifts to be personal.

In the afternoon the police-sergeant appeared and
claimed the property which had been " stolen from
St. Bernardine's College." I believe that his proceed-
ings were entirely illegal, though I was unfortunately
no't sure of it at the time. However, we disputed the
ownership of the property, and he at once retreated.
Then, in order to avoid litigation, I promised to
surrender a large number of books if Father David
would come to claim them. Father David came, again
bringing, to the increasing astonishment of the little
town, the representative of law and order. We effected
a rough division of the books, and the telescope was
referred to the donor, who awarded it to me. The
next day, wearied to death and not a little alarmed,
I returned even the small sum of money I had taken
for travelling expenses, and faced the world without
a penny or the immediate prospect of earning one. It
was a sensation with which I was to become more or
less familiar. But I had narrowly escaped an igno-
minious position, which would have increased a thou-
sand-fold the difficulty of entering upon a new career.
That was the aim of my colleagues.

Then came the painful desertion of all my late
co-religionists. Even some to whom I was deeply
attached wrote harsh and bitter letters to me; they
were taught as a matter of religious duty to regard
a secession in a moral light, and not as a change of
convictions. Of the effect on the wider circle of

218 SECESSION

•

acquaintances made in the course of ministry I have
given one painful illustration, and will give another,
as the truth is all but incredible. I knew what to
expect, yet was loth to admit it myself without a
struggle. So I singled out one layman of exceptional
education and mature age, with whom I had been
familiar for some time, and who, only two weeks
previously, had spoken to me in terms of high esteem
and affection. I wrote merely to ask him to suspend
his judgment until I could send a full explanation of
my action. He rephed at once : —

" Dear Father Antony,— I am deeply pained to
find you have fled from the harvest field and become
a scatterer — of what type remains to be seen. It is
not for me to reproach you, Father Antony— the
worm of conscience will do that efficiently, God knows
— but it is necessary I should answer your last letter
at once in order to prove my position and give no
countenance to yours. You ask me to suspend judg-
ment on you, which means that I should pass judgment
on Father David forthwith and dub him slanderer, at j
the bidding of one who has obviously betrayed a sacred
trust.

" With reference to your Upton sermon it is true
I suggested its publication for the benefit of your
mission. Unsuspicious of heterodoxy I failed at first
to catch its true import, but quiet reflection after-
wards revealed it to me as a subtle attack on Chris-
tianity itself, through the doctrine of evolution as
apphed to morals and rehgion.^ How in the face of

^ He refers to the sermon mentioned on p. 82 ; there were just
two lines m it on the "evolution of morals and religion," and they

SECESSION 219

this you can still talk of your ' religious opinions ' is
inexplicable, surely? I can just conceive you as an
agnostic with a shred of honesty remaining— but as
any other odd fish— No! However it may be, God
save you from the lowest depths of unbelief! We
know too well the evolution of the apostate.

"Yet I desire to speak without bitterness [?] and
shall think of you in sorrow only. If at any future
time you think I can give you one helpful word, write
to me, and believe me now to remain in simple truth,
yours sincerely."

The writer of this letter is considered to be unusu-
ally well informed in philosophical matters. I had,
therefore, thought it possible that he would be able
to regard my secession in an intellectual light. After
such perverse misunderstanding and harsh and insulting
language from him I was constrained to abandon all
hop^'e of sympathy from Catholics. Of the 3000 people
of the congregation to which I was attached, as priest
or student, for ten years, and from whom I experienced
nothing but deep respect as long as I was with them,
not a s^oul has ever written to relieve my distress with
a single word of interest or concern. One only of them
has si)okcn to me since my secession — one who stopped
me in the street to ask " if I was not afraid that the
ground would open under my feet." One only of

were orthodox. The writer it was who came to thank me for the
sermon— a most unusual proceeding— and ask for its pubhcatioii.
Ho repeated his praise and his request twenty-four hours aftorwanls.
It was a plea fi)r the better education of the clergy, and, altliougli it
liit my own collt-agues in a tender spot (and ou that very act^ount
HO much gratified the laity) they congratulated mo on it without a
word against its orthodoxy.

220 SECESSION

my late colleagues has ever written or said a sym-
pathetic word to me. At the time of my secession
he wrote me a letter in which the effect of the system
is again visible, pitifully obscuring the kind and

humane temper of the writer. It concluded :

" And now having made my protest, let me say,
my dear Father, that you were quite right in thinking
that I am your sincere friend and brother. . . . You
will never find any friends so true as the old ones [?],
and it is to be regretted that you did not, in the dark
hours of doubt and temptation, seek help from those
whose prudence and experience might have saved you
from wrecking your life by this false step. Vae soli.
You did not have recourse to those whom you were
bound to consult, but relied upon yourself; or, if you
took counsel, it was rather with unbelievers than with
those of the Faith and of the Order. ^

" You know well that other and greater intellects
than yours have examined the same questions more
deeply than you can possibly have done, and have
come to an opposite conclusion " [the writer, as is
usual, disregards the fact that, in this century, the
number of authorities against him is equally high and
brilliant, at least] ; " and this ought to have made you
distrust your own judgment, doubt the infallibility of
your own lights, and feel there was much you have

/ The reader is already aware that both these statements are
absolutely maccurate. I never took counsel with an unbeliever
whereas for eiglit years I took counsel with the most competent
Inar we had, until his counsel was threadbare. But my corre-
spondent, F. Bede, was disappointed that 1 had not consulted him
Ihe reason was that, although I had and have the highest possible
regard for his character, he had no knowledge whatever of science
or philosophy.

SECESSION 221

not been able to see, which, if you could see, would
lead you the opj>osite way. I fear that this pride
may have contributed to bring about the withdrawal
of the light. What may also have helped is that
bitterness of spirit you have sometimes manifested
towards others, which is not according to the dictates
of charity. Add to that a want of respect for those
in authority, and you have the factoi's which may
have helped to bring this chastisement from God. I
do not judge you ; you must know your own con-
science, but I feel I ought to tell you what appears
to me as likely to have been the cause of your mis-
fortune. ... As it is, I can only pray earnestly to
(iod to give you light and grace to see the truth and
submit to it, and to beg our Holy Father not to cast
you off. . . . That shall be my constant prayer, and
one that I confidently hope will sooner or later be
heard. — Believe nie, my dear Father, very sorrowfully,
but very sincerely, yours in Christ."

Here, at last, a kindly and humane feeling reveals
itself, but how hardly it struggles tlu'ough the narrow
bonds of the dogmatic sense! Like the preceding
letter, but much less harshly, it persists in considering
my action in a purely moral Ught. The writer cannot
entertain the possibility of my being honestly com-
l)clled by my studies to secede ; though he has since,
I am glad to say, expressed an entirely just conccpliuu
of my position. One curious effect of his dogmatic
view is seen in his effort to sum up my faults — and he
knew me well. My " pride " of judgment is, I trust,
excusable ; I was bound to form an opinion. The
charge of disrespect to authority and sarcasm in inter-

222 SECESSION

course with my fellows, which I must fully admit,
will be understood in the light of preceding chapters.
I confess that I have taken some complacency in my
moral character after that summary of it by my
advocatus diaboli. But it is pitiful to see that a clever,
experienced, and humane priest can entertain the
thought that a man will be damned eternally for such
trivialities. His whole attitude is, as in the preceding
case, a significant effect of the system; and it is only
as effects and illustrations of that system that I offer
these details about my secession.

It would be useless to describe all the incidents that
arose at the separation ; they were wearisome and
painful repetitions of the same unfortunate spirit.
During my clerical days I had attracted some suspicion
by defending the possibility of honest secession from
the Church, and especially of boyia fide scepticism; it
was now my turn to be sacrificed to the system which
I had resented. It has been explained that the Church
is prepared to go to any length to prevent scandal, and
the recognition by the laity of an honourable secession
of one of the clergy would be a serious scandal; hence
little scruple is shown by priests in discussing the
character of a former colleague. In my own case I
believe that nothing very offensive has been invented.^

^ I must add, with reluctance, and only becaiise it is a material
fact in regard to the Eoman system, that, as the years passed and
I began to write critical works, the same vile calumnies were circu-
lated about me by the clergy as about all other seceding priests.
These things are carefully kept out of print, so that one has no
legal remedy ; but I have had inquiries about them from all parts
of the English-speaking world. The chief and most flagrant aim
is to connect my secession with my marriage. The Catholic lay-
man wUl not trouble to glance at " Who's Who ? " from which he
would at once leam that I did not marry until three years and a

SECESSION 223

The favourite hypothesis seems to be that indiscreet
flattery and premature honours have unfortunately
deran<ied my intelligence — discipline, of course, re-
quiring the usual excommunication and social ostracism.
Those of my acquaintances who cannot convince them-
selves of my mental derangement are offered the grim
alternative of regarding me as having " obviously
betrayed a sacred trust " (to quote my former friend).
Only mv own immediate family circle and one other
family, out of a wide circle of friends, seem to regard
me still as a rational and honest human being. As
far as I can gather, the majority of my earlier friends
would have preferred me — whatever my frame of mind
— to remain at their altars. There are many priests
who do so.

Some such violent disruption from the past is the lot
of every seceder from Rome. Add to it the practical
diflRculty of recommencing life in mature age, and some
idea will be formed of one great force that helps to
preserve the integrity of the Catholic priesthood.

half after my secession. I was unaware, until two years after I
liiid left t)»e Cliiirch, even of tlie existence of the lady whom I
eventually married. The wliole of these legends are remarkable
for their absolutely reckless mendacity. Third edition.

CHAPTER XII

CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM

Before I proceed to summarise the information regard-
ing monastic life which is dispersed through the pre-
ceding chapters, and to make it the ground of an
opinion, it will be well to enlarge and supplement it
as far as possible. However interesting these details
may be in themselves, they would throw little light
on the general condition of nionasticism if it could
be thought that they only illustrated the life of one
particular order, and still less if they were due to the
abnormal circumstances in which one small branch of
that order chances to find itself. On so narrow a base
only a very restricted opinion could be reared. No
fault, indeed, is more frequently conmiitted by English
and American writers on the Church of Rome than
this of undue generalisation. It is often forgotten that
the Roman Church in England is, after all, merely
a large and active mission in a foreign land. Hence
many writers fail to correct the insularity of their
experience, and thus have not a due sense of the real
proportions of sects and their institutions on the great
world-stage. They likewise fail to make allowance for
the peculiar effect of a missionary status. To escape
this fallacy the preceding description of monasticism

224

CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM 225

in England, illustrated copiously from the life of the
Grey Friars, needs collateral support from other
countries or national " provinces " of that order.

One other province has been described already
at some length. The Belgian province, it must be
remembered, is in an entirely different condition from
the English province. It labours under no financial
difficulties (the seven monasteries of the English friars
bear a collective debt of about .£50,000), it has no
scarcity of vocations, it suffers not the slightest civic
or legislative interference with its maimer of life. It
may be taken as a typical branch of modern monas-
ticism, and is claimed to be such by its adherents.
Yet although it differs considerably in literal fulfilment
of the Franciscan rule, in formal disciphne and ritual,
it will be recognised from the contents of Chapter VII.
that it agrees entirely with the Enghsh province in
the features which are important to the philosophical
observer. On the whole, its life is sordid and
liypocritical.

A slight allusion has also been made to the condition
of the Franciscan Order in Ireland. So unsatisfactory
I's it, from a monastic point of view, that the Roman
authorities for many years were bent on extinguishing
it. Ireland, one of the most Catholic countries in the
civilised world, is the richest possible soil for monas-
ticism; men who lead the lives of the medieval monks
will receive from its peasantry the deep reverence and
hospitality of the medieval world. Yet the Irish
province was, at the time I left the Franciscan Order,
one of its most enfeebled branches. During the vcars
of i>ersccution the scattered friars naturally discarded
every monastic feature from their lives, and no amount

£26 CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM

of pressure from Rome had been able to reform them.
They individually possessed money (thus ignoring the
first principle of the Franciscan rule), wore boots and
stockings, rarely donned their habits, had secular
servants, and were guilty of many other condemned
practices. But in the last few years the province has
been restored to a moderate regularity, and is now a
little better disciplined than the English province.

Another flourishing branch of the order is found
in Holland. Although it is in an " heretical " country
it has full civic liberty and is generously patronised ;
hence it has grown into a powerful body. During
my sojourn in Belgium I gathered that it fell far
short of the high standard of the Flemish province,
and the fact seemed to be generally confirmed. But
shortly after my return to England I received a
curious confirmation of the opinion. We received
a small pamphlet, written in Latin (for it was not
intended to reach the eyes of the laity), having for its
theme the condition of the Dutch Franciscan pro-
vince. It was signed by a Dutch friar, who declared
that he was (and had been for some years) incar-
cerated by his colleagues because he would not keep
silence; he had written the pamphlet in his room of
detention, and managed to have it conveyed to friends
in the outer world. He declared that the province
was deeply corrupted ; that asceticism was almost un-
known, and a gross sensualism pervaded their ranks —
even mentioning isolated cases of friars being brought
home to the monastery " theologically drunk," with
the aid of police-stretchers. He further declared that
the superiors of the monasteries bribed their provincial
to overlook the state of things, and that the province

CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM 227

secured tranquillity by sending large sums of money
to the Roman authorities for their new international
college. The pamphlet was clearly not the composi-
tion of an insane person, and none of our friars called
its accuracy into question. It must be remembered
tliat this pamphlet was written by a Franciscan priest
solely for the perusal of other Franciscan priests.
Again, therefore, we meet the same unfavourable moral
and intellectual features, much more accentuated than
even in the Irish province.

The other branches of the order are only known
to me by conversation with isolated members. The
circumstances of the friars in the United States are
entirely similar to those of the English friars, and
their condition is closely analogous, if not a little less
ascetic. The South American friars, I gathered from
one of them whom I knew, urgently needed reform.
The friars of Spain are fairly well known since the
opening up of the Spanish colonies to civilisation.

The German provinces seem to be sUghtly better

a little more industrious and studious, as would be
expected— but, on the whole, do not differ materiallj'
from their Belgian neighbours. Tlie French friars
were very little higher in the si)iritual scale, as a rule,
than the Belgians, taking into account the enormous
difference of temperament. France will not be much
the poorer for their loss. The Italian friars, as a
rule, maintain a more rigorous discipline, and are less
material than their northern brethren; but they are
very generally idle, quarrelsome, ignorant, and am-
bitious of office. There are, it need hardly be said,
fervent indiviihial monks everywhere, and many fer-
vent communities in Italy and Spain. For my jniriiose

228 CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM

I must give the broad features. I must say that,
where the profession of asceticism is not a sham,
it can point only to a mechanical and unspiritual
discipUne.

I have, in the ninth chapter, said enough about
other reUgious orders to shovp that they are in an
analogous condition. Where the rule of life is not
very ascetical, it is observed; where, as in all the
older orders, there is a profession of austerity, the
practice is not in accord with the profession. It is
hardly Ukely that Rome would tolerate an unusual
corruption on the part of one particular order. In
spite of the great diversity in their aims and charac-
ters, the same forces are at work in each. In fact,
the various monastic congregations have so far lost
sight of the special purposes for which they were
founded that, especially in England and the United
States, they differ from the ordinary clergy in little
more than dress and community life and ceremonies.
The orders which, like the Franciscan, were founded
for the purpose of caring for the poor, and embodying
voluntary poverty in their own lives, are found to be
continually seeking a higher social level; vying with
each other for the patronage of the rich, and always
choosing a middle class in preference to a poor con-
gregation. The Dominican order was intended to be
an " Order of Friars Preachers," but it now has no
more claim to that title than the other semi-monastic
and semi-secular congregations. Carmelites, Servites,
Marists, and Oblates were founded in order to increase
the cult of the mother of Christ ; Jesuits for the fight
against heresy and the instruction of the young; Pas-
sionists to spread devotion to the Passion. In all of

CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM 229

tliem the original object has dropped very much out
of sight, and there is a very close resemblance of life
and activity. It is said that there has been serious
(luestion at Rome of suppressing the majority of them,
and reducing the number to about four, of different
types, which would suffice for vocations of all
complexions.
•

We are now in a position to answer with some
degree of justice the often repeated question : What
is the ethical significance and the ethical value of
modern monasticism? The slightest reflection on the
origin of the monastic bodies will make it clear that
a high degree of spirituality and a keen faith in the
supernatural are necessary in the earnest votary of
monaslicism. The orders have been founded by men
of an abnormally neurotic and spiritual temperament,
men wlio were capable of almost any ascetical excesses!
Extraordinary actions were their ordinary stimulant,'
and they devoted themselves with ardour to that
ascetical rigour of life which the Christian Church
has, from the earliest stages, derived from the teaching
of its founder. It is clear that Ciu-ist did lay great
stress on the merit of self-denial; but it seems equally
clear that he did not contemplate the system of
eremitical and cenobitic life which commenced in the
Ihebaid a few centuries after his death, and which is
still rigorously presented in the life of liie Carthusians
and less rigorously in that of the Trappists. However
that may l)e, St. Bernard, Si. Bruno, St. Francis
St. Dominic, and the other founders, translated literally
into their own lives, under the influence of an excep-
tionally fervid religious emotion, the principles of

230 CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM

Christian ethics, as they were universally expounded
up to the fifteenth century.

In an age when it was thought that one man
could expiate the sins and purchase the pleasures of
another, these saints became centres of great pubUc
interest and attracted many disciples. Then, in an
evil hour, they drew up certain rules of hfe, which
were only slightly modified . versions of their own
extraordinary lives, and bade their followers bind,
themselves by the most solemn and indissoluble !
obligation to their observance. Such rules could only
be observed by men who shared the same exalted
spiritual temper and imagination ; and one needs little
knowledge of life to understand how very scarce such
men arer and how great an error it is to suppose that
any large body of men would observe such rules with
fidelity. In the Middle Ages faith was not overcast
by scientific, historical, and philosophical controversies,
and tradition was a paramount authority. Men were
not only chronologically nearer to the great drama of
the foundation of Christianity, but they accepted the
traditional version with unquestioning confidence.

However, even in the Middle Ages, monasticism
was no purer an institution than it is now. Soon
after the foundation of the several orders there begins
the long history of corruptions, reforms, and schisms
inside the order, and of papal and episcopal fulmina-
tions and historical impeachments from without.
Long before the death of Francis of Assisi his order
was deeply corrupted; indeed, his own primitive com-
panions had made him tear up, or had torn up for him,
the first version of his rule, and it was only by the
intrigue of certain patrons at Rome that he secured

CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM 231

the papal assent to his second rule. And scarcely
KKl the supreme command passed, during Francis's
lifetime into the hands of Fr. Elias, than a powerful
parly of moderates arose, and dissension, intrigue
and schism threw the entire body into a fever" of
agitation. Elias was a clever and ambitious friar, who
i>ad a much wider acquaintance with human nature
and much less ascetical fervour than Francis The
manner of life which he advocated was, like that of
modern monks, much more sensible; his error was
also like that of the moderns, to cling to the original
profession And that struggle of human nature
agamst the unnatural standard of life it had some-
how adopted has never ceased. The many branches
of the Franciscan Order, Capuchins, Recollects, Re-
formed, Conventuals, and Observants, mark so many
ditterent schisms over the perpetual quarrel; yet at
the present day, they are all once more on a common
evel. And, apart from this internal evidence, secular
history gives abundant proof of the periods of deep
degradation into which the orders of monks have
penodually fallen ; if secular historians are not trusted
a jud.cious selection of papal decrees and episcopal
letters would ,,lace the fact beyond controversy.

ilence It is only natural to expect that, in these
'iays of less luminous and tranquil faith and less
ervid imagination, the spirit of monasticism will be
Jess potent than ever; the more so as a large section
ot Lhr.stiamty has now repudiated the ascetical ideal
entirely, and emphatically .lissociated it from the
teachmg of Christ. Protestantism first fell upon
monastic.sm, flail in han.l, for its corrupli<.r., and
nearly extinguished it; then it sought theological

232 CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM

justification, and convinced itself that monasticism
was unscriptural. Although there have been many
vain attempts in modern days to reanimate it, the
vast majority o£ non-Catholics persist in regarding
monasticism as founded on an exegetical error and
humanly unjustifiable; and that conviction, together
with the causes that produced it or occasioned its
formation, has re-acted on the old Church. The
mental attitude which in former ages passed at once
and instinctively from deep fervour to great ascetical
rigour is rarely found to-day amongst educated
people. Not only is faith less confident, but the
growth of the moral sense has affected the tradition.
It is now thought an unworthy conception of God
that he should be held to look down with com-
placency on a race of " self -tormentors " and should
promise rewards for the sacrifice of the gifts he has
put before us. And the growing sense of the unity
of human nature has made it no longer possible to
suppose that we may enfeeble "the flesh" yet
strengthen the spirit. Capacity for work is placed
higher than bloodless debility. To face life manfully
is held to be nobler than to shun it.

The description I have given of modern monastic
life shows that all these changes of the spirit of the
world have penetrated into the cloister. The idyllic
life of the monk, a life of prayer and toil and un-
worldliness or other- worldliness, does not exist to any
great extent outside the pages of Catholic apologists
and a few non-Catholic poets and novelists. The
forms of monasticism remain, but the spirit is almost
gone from them. One is forcibly reminded of that
passage of Carlyle where he speaks of institutions as

CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM 233

fair masks under whicli, instead of fair faces, one
catches a glimpse of shuddering corruption. Not
that monasticism, apart from its high profession, is an
object of special moral reprobation; its fault, its title
to contempt, lies rather in its continued profession of
an ideal from Avhich it has hopelessly fallen, and in
its constant effort to hide that discrepancy.

There are, of course, isolated members who are
deeply corrupted in monasteries and nunneries, as in
all other spheres ; there are* also many individuals of
unusually exalted character. But the great majority
of the inmates of monastic institutions may be
divided, as is clear from the preceding, into two
categories. One is the category of those who are
religiously incUned, but whose whole merit consists
in the equivocal virtue of having bound themsehes
to a certain system of religious services, through which
they pass mechanically and with much resignation,
and which they alleviate by as much harmless
pleasure and distraction as they can procure. The
other category, and, perhaps, the larger one, consists
of those wlio seem to have exliausted their moral
heroism in the taking of the vows; for the rest of
their lives (and one of the most remarkable features
of monks of all classes is the anxiety they show to
prolong their " earthly exile ") they chafe under the
discipline they have undertaken, modify and withdraw
from it as much as possible, and add to it as much
" worldly " pleasure as circumstances permit. Both
categories lead lives of ordinary morality— but only
ordinary, so that the garments of the saints sit very
incongruously on their shoulders. They seem to
api)reciate the good things of this life as keenly as

234 CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM

ordinary mortals do, and shrink from death as naivelj'
as if death meant annihilation instead of entrance into

Paradise.

Thus, on the one hand, certain anti-papal lecturers
err in representing monasticism, as a body, as an
institution of a particularly dark character; on the
other hand, the belief of the average Catholic layman
that it is an institution of unusual merit — that con-
vents are " the lightning conductors of divine wrath
from the cities," &c.— is pitifully incorrect. Monas-
ticism has suffered a luxurious overgrowth of sensuous-
ness. This is partly due to the idleness, and partly
to the vow of celibacy, of the monks. I have said
enough of their idleness, which is one of the most
constant features of their life in Catholic countries.
Their religious ceremonies do not afford serious occupa-
tion of mind. They never undertake manual labour,
and they study little. The amount of work they
are entrusted with does not give occupation to half
the community. Hence results much idleness; and
idleness is, as St. Francis told them, " the devil's

pillow."

Then there is the absence of contact (entire absence
in Catholic countries) with the sex which is, by instinct
and education, more refined, and exercises a refining
influence. In the absence of that influence a natural
masculine tendency to coarseness develops freely,
unless it receives a check in deep spirituality, which
cannot be said to be frequently the case. In point
of fact, most of the founders of orders seem to have
appreciated that influence very sensibly. St. Augus-
tine, of course, in his saintly days, does not, for
obvious reasons ; but St. Benedict had his Scholastica,

CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM 235

St. Francis his Clare, St. Francis de Sales his Jeanne
l-ranfoise, and even the grim St. Peter of Alcantara
iiad lus Teresa. Their modern disciples have also
many " spiritual " friendships, but the fact is unable
to counterbalance the effect of their celibate home-
lite. Their intercourse with women, in the face of
their ascetical teaching, is necessarily either very
hmited or hypocritical.

Tlius it is that, wherever there is not deep piety
we find a selfish individuahsm, which is the root of
a 1 the undignified intrigue, meanness, and dissension
that have been described. Thus it is also that there
IS a morbid craving for indulgence in food and drink
making a mockery of their long fasts and abstinences!
In the midst of a long fast they will celebrate an
accidental feast-day most luxuriously, and at the close
of the fast have quite a gastronomic saturnalia. Still
It must be said that, whilst there is more drinking
than IS supposed, there is little drunkenness. There
IS usually a constant and hberal supply of drink, if
the convent is in good circumstances, but excess is
rare; it is, however, not treated seriously unless it
nas become public.

A third effect of this pious exclusion of women is
seen in the tone of their conversation; it is too
frequently of an unpleasant character— not immoral
rarely suggestive but often coarse and malodorous!
iaes which the better class of Catholic laymen would
not suffer to be told in their presence, and which
.^re more fitting for such books as La Terre an<I
LAssommotr, are frequently told in clerical, and
especially monastic, circles.

On the point of immorality in the specific sense I

236 CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM

must endeavour to formulate an opinion. My ex-
perience has been wide, though not of long duration,
so that I could not rebut an opposite and more
damagmg statement of experience. Yet I am con-
vinced there has been much exaggeration in this
respect. The evidence of the majority of " escaped "
monks and nuns seems to me unreliable. But even
if all their tales were true, it would only prove that,
as everybody expects, there are many isolated cases
of immoraUty. It is improper to extend the charge
to the whole body. It can only be said that these
cases are numerous. There can be nothing very
startling in that statement. I have no doubt it would
be less true of the clergy than of an ordinary body
of men if their lives were healthier. But as long
as they are indiscriminately and prematurely bound
to celibacy, and to a life which is so productive of
egoism, sensuousness, and indolence, it is the only
possible condition for them.

The same must be said of clie vow of ceUbacy of
the secular clergy. In theory it is admirable for the
ecclesiastical purpose, and it is very graceful to con-
template from the standpoint of Christian asceticism.
In practice it is a deplorable blunder, and leads to
much subterfuge and hypocrisy. Like monasticism,
it would probably not be accepted by one-half their
number if they were not involved in an irrevocable
engagement to it before they properly understand it.
Like monasticism, it will probably disappear, as a
universal law, when the Church of Rome is awakened
at length from her conservative lethargy with the din
and roar of a great battle in her ears.

Finally, an answer is also ready to that other

CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM 237

question which is not infrequently heard in these
days : What is the relation of the monastic orders
to Socialism? Socialising Christians, or Christian
Socialists, frequently hold up the monastic orders as
embodiments of a true social spirit. The argument
rests, of course, on a very superficial analogy ; there is
really no parallel between monasticism and SociaUsm.
On the contrary, they are at the very opposite poles
of economics. Monasticism, in the first place (except
the modified monasticism of the Jesuits), does not
counsel a community of goods; neither in individual
nor in common does it permit ownership. But it
parts company with Socialism very emphatically when
it goes on to impose extraordinary limits on pro-
duction. Socialism urges a common use of the con-
veniences produced, and urges the production of as
many as possible. And lest it should seem that
monasticism at least sympathises with the SociaUsts
of simpler life, such as Mr. E. Carpenter, it must be
remembered that it Umits production on an exactly
opposite principle. Mr. Carpenter thinks simphcity
conducive to comfort and happiness; monasticism
trusts that it is productive of discomfort and mortifica-
tion. Ill fine, it wishes its votaries to be uncomfort-
able in this world, which is the very antithesis of the
Socialistic aim.

In a minor degree its celibacy is anti-socialistic;
whatever relation of the sexes the Socialist may advo-
cate, he certainly advocates some form of intimate
relation. And the Socialist would not for a moment
sanction the withdrawal of a large number of citizens
from every civic duty on the pica that they were more
interested in another world. He would not exempt a

238 CRITIQUE OF MONASTICISM

large number of able-bodied men from labour on the
plea that they were " waterspouts of divine grace " or
" lightning conductors of divine wrath " for their sin-
ful brethren. He would be impatient of all indolence,
and mendicancy, and parasitism of any complexion.

However, the parallel has never been very seriously
entertained, and does not merit further criticism.
Monasticism has neither interest nor advantage for
the modern world; it is an enfeebled and corrupted
survival of an institution whose congenial environ-
ment seems to have disappeared, and it is only main-
tained by the scandalous practice of enticing or
permitting boys to undertake life-long obligations of
a most serious character. Even in the stern monas-
teries of the Carthusians, where it still retains its full
rigour of ascetism and solitude, it loses the sympathy
of the modern world ; merit is now thought to consist
in the fulfilment of the whole duty of man, in works
that produce visible fruit, and that tend to remove
the actual evils of life. But, for the majority of the
monastic bodies, with their indolent withdrawal from
life's difficulties and duties, without any real compen-
sating virtue, or with their pitiful compromise between
external occupation and their antiquated theories of
detachment, one cannot but feel a certain contempt.
At the best, a monk would merely have the merit of
making himself a part of a great penitential machine.
As it is, his profession of extraordinary virtue and
unworldliness is an insincere formality.

CHAPTER XIII

THE CHURCH OF ROME

There is at the present time a profound struggle in
progress over fundamental religious questions. Dur-
ing three centuries Europe has resounded with the
din, and even been watered with the blood, of con-
flicting sects. At length the sections of Christianity
have been distracted from their civil war by the
advent of a common enemy— anti-sacerdotahsm, if not
a yet more revolutionary force that has been called
naturalism— and they are eager to unite under a com-
mon banner against it. No one who is at all familiar
with modern hterature can ignore that struggle. Dur-
ing tiie eighteenth and nineteenth centuries the number
of powerful writers and thinkers who have withstood
the traditional religious authority in England, France,
and Germany, is deeply significant. There is in our
day a comparative lull in tlic storm of controversy—
a comparative dearth of eminent thinkers on botli sides
—but one still finds unmistakable traces of the conflict
in every page of every branch of literature. A great
number of influential writers advocate one or other
form of naturalism ; it is hardly too much to say that
the greater number of the eminent exponents of
literature, science, and art depart in some measure
from the orthodox path. It is usually said that women

240 THE CHURCH OF ROME

are the more reliable support of clericalism. We have
at the present daj^ in England a number of briUiant
women writers, but though few of them (for reasons
which may be left to the psychologist) profess extreme
naturalism, very few of them adhere strictly to the
orthodox sacerdotal institutions. The issue of the
struggle is, therefore, the object of much anxious
speculation.

The place which the Church of Rome is destined
to occupy in this struggle is a matter of much inter-
est, and it is usually expected that it will be a very
prominent position. The Church itself, of course, with
that buoyant confidence which is one of the most
patent symptoms of its " perennial youth," predicts
the ultimate absorption of all other forms of Chris-
tianity into itself, and proclaims that the final conflict
will be between Rome and Rationahsm. And Roman
Catholics boast, with much truth, that their prediction
is confirmed by many independent observers; Macau-
lay's vision of the undying glory of the Papacy rising
through the mists of future ages over the ruins of
England (and, presumably, Anglicanism) finds many
sympathisers. Mr. H. G. Wells has lent the force of
his expert prophetic faculty recently to the " anticipa-
tion " that Catholicism will outUve Protestantism.

But it is not usually noticed that there is a great
difference in the ground of the prediction in the two
cases. Rome prides herself on the intellectual value
of her credentials, and thinks that time is sure to
bring about their universal acceptance. On the other
hand, those non-Catholic writers who talk of an ulti-
mate struggle between Rome and Rationalism are under
the impression that Rome does not appeal to reason

THE CHURCH OF ROME 241

at all. They divide men into two categories — rational
and extra-rational — and think that the final trial of
strength will be between reason and authority, which
they identify with Rome. There is a curious mis-
understanding on both sides. Roman theologians per-
versely represent Rationalists as men who reject
mysteries, miracles, &c., on the mere ground that they
are supra-rational, and without reference to their
credentials ; and most Rationalists are under the impres-
sion tliat Rome professes an irrational method, rebukes
and demands the blind submission of reason, instead of
offering it satisfactory evidence, and preaches authority
from first to last. Under that impression it is not
surprising tliat the Church of Rome is selected as the
fittest to survive of the Christian sects. But the
impression is wrong.

Just as the Rationalist does not reject supra-rational
theorems if they are not confra-rational, and if there
is satisfactory evidence in their favour, so neither
does the theologian reject the demands of reason for
logical satisfaction. The Catiiolic scheme claims to
be pre-eminently logical, and does precisely appeal
to the intellect of the inquirer; indeed, it is taught
that the " convert " from Rationalism must have a
natural rational certitude before he can receive the
" light of faith." The system has been described in
an earlier chapter, but the process would be of this
character. Tlie inquirer (if beginning from scepticism)
would be offered rational evidence of the existence
and personality of God, and (usually, though not neces-
sarily) of the immortality of the soul; if that evidence
did not satisfy him there Mould be no further pro-
gress. If convinced on those points he would be

242 THE CHURCH OF ROME

offered evidence, still of a purely rational character,
of the divinity of Christ and Christianity, and of the
authenticity of the Scriptures. Then he would be led,
on historical grounds, to accept the divine institution
of the Church of Rome, its infallible magisteriuni
and its indispensable ininisterium, and the prerogatives
of its supreme pastor. He is now prepared to accept
statements, logically, on authority, and the rest of
the dogmas are, consequently, proved from Scripture,
tradition, and the authoi'ity of the Church.

But even here reason is not abandoned ; not only is
it continually sought to confirm statements by rational
and historical analogies, but it is admitted as a prin-
ciple that every dogma must meet the negative test
of reason. If any dogma contains a single proposition
which offends against reason the whole system must be
rejected. That is the teaching of the Church. Hence
much ingenuity is shown in averting the rationalistic
criticism of such thorny dogmas as the Trinity and the
Eucharist ; it is claimed that the accusation of absurdity
is disproved, and therefore reason may confidently
take them on authority. And again, when it is said
that there is a living infallible magisterium in the
Church, this must be accepted in a very narrow sense.
The overwhelming majority of the bulls, decrees,
encyclicals, &c., which the Popes have issued, have
only a disciplinary effect. It is piously believed by
many that Providence takes a minor interest in them ;
but most priests take little notice of them, and the
doctrine of infallibility has been carefully drawn up
not to include them. The great dogma simply
amounts to this, that the Pope (or the Church) can
teach no new doctrine, but he has special guidance

THE CHURCH OF ROME 243

in his solemn declarations (which are few and far
between) that certain doctrines are contained in the
deposit of revelation. There have only been two such
definitions in the nineteenth century. Neither Leo
XIII. nor Pius X. has given any. Hence it will be
understood how great an error those Protestants make
who go over to Rome for the sake of its infallible
voice (as if they were to have an infallible Times at
breakfast every morning), and also how untrue it is
that Rome is the antithesis, the professed opponent,
of reason, and only preaches submission.

No, the Church of Rome does not profess to be the
refuge of the timid and the sentimental in a subver-
sive age. Its strength must be sought in its distinctive
methods and institutions, not in a position that would
make it the centre of all forces opposed to Rationalism.
Tliese advantages have been described in the course
of my narrative. In the first place, it has a very
superior organisation to that of any other Christian
sect, or any other religion whatever. Its constitution
embodies all the several advantages of an elective
monarchy and an oligarchy (indeed canonists dispute
whether it is to be called monarchic or oligarchic) ;
and at the same time it escapes the instability incident
on democratic forms by dogmatically dissociating its
power from the civil power and claiming a supernatural
source for it. Its hierarchy, of wiiich the centre is
a figure about whom a vague supernatural halo is set,
and who is now always a commanding and venerable
personage, lends a rigid unity to its 200,000,000 adher-
ents. Rome, the heir of the tact, ambition, and
vigour of the Ca-sars, the richest treasury of art, and
a veritable hive of lawyers an<l diplomatists, controls

244 THE CHURCH OF ROME

and utilises the talent, the ambition, and the jealousy
of its great sacerdotal army, and with easy confidence
commands the attention of the civilised world.

Then the completeness, the unity, and the plausi-
bility of its theological system must be considered.
From the days of St. John Damascene until the six-
teenth century almost all the talent of the civilised
world has contributed to the formation of that system ;
it is a truism to say that it is plausible. Enduring
almost unchanged through ten centuries, and eliciting
the veneration of almost the entire intellectual world,
it presents an imposing contrast to the theologies of
more recent growth. Moreover, even in recent times
it has been accepted by many great writers Avho have
left the impress of their genius upon it, and accom-
modated it to minds of every cast.

And side by side with the elaboration of its own
system must be classed an instrument which it uses
very adroitly for the same purpose, the Index Expur-
gatorius, or list of condemned books. In England and
America there is little explicit mention of the Index,
for economical reasons, but every Catholic is given
very clearly to understand the depravity of reading
books " against faith or morals." The restriction is
cleverly represented to be a moral, not a disciplinary
prescription, and thus the end of the Index is practic-
ally achieved without mentioning the odious word.
Non-Catholics are gravely reminded that it is ethically
imperative to study both sides of every religious
question. Catholics are told in the same breath that
it is sinful for them to read the works of opponents,
because they are already in possession of the truth
and must not run the risk of losing it.

THE CHURCH OF ROME 245

At the same time Catholics are indulged to some
extent in their wayward anxiety to know what oppon-
ents are saying by having their objections formulated
for them in their own apologetical literature — with
satisfactory solutions appended. Here again the
peculiarity of the Catholic controversial method tells
in its immediate favour. As one would expect, most
of the objections have been carefully prepared for the
express purpose of refutation. No Catholic writer
ever gives an accurate version of hostile criticism.
Newman is usually said to be the most satisfactory in
this respect. In fact it is claimed that he formulates
the opinion of an adversary more lucidly than the
original writer. But take, for instance, the exposition
of Gibbon's five causes of the spread of Christianity in
the appendix to tlie " Grammar of Assent " and com-
pare it with the classical chapter of Gibbon. It is
utterly inaccurate and unworthy. And not only are
the opinions of critics garbled and mutilated, but their
personal characters are too lightly aspersed. Anglicans
are allowed some precarious hope of ultimate salvation.
But when we come to deeper sceptics the credit of
bona fides is stopped. All the theological manuals
grossly affirm that there is no such thing as honest
agnosticism, and it is firm Catholic doctrine that none
but a believer in personal theism can ever enter heaven.
Thus the most puerile stories — as that Julian died cry-
ing out, " Vicisti, Galilufc," and that Voltaire died
raving for a priest, and so on — are generally accepted ;
and the most dishonourable motives are imputed to the
enemies of the Church. If a modern Inferno were
written it would describe a l)rilliant literary circle.

So also the results of philosophical, historical, and

246 THE CHURCH OF ROME

scientific research are accommodated to pious purposes.
For several years geology and palaeontology suffered
great torture at the hands of Genesiac interpreters;
history and archaeology and philology then yielded
marvellously convenient results ; ethnology was racked
to support a biblical chronology which is now aban-
doned; even chemistry, embryology, psychophysics,
and a host o£ innocent sciences were pressed into
service and pressed out of shape in the process.

Of another institution which the Church formerly
used for the same high purpose of guarding its flock
against intellectual wolves — the Inquisition — little need
be said. If it were truly a dead and discarded pro-
ceeding, Uke persecution on the Protestant side, it
would not merit notice; it seems unprofitable to
reproach the Church of Rome continually with the
many and dark sins of the past of which it has really
repented. However, it is not at all clear that the
Church has repented of this particular outrage upon
morals and humanity. The principles on which the
Inquisition was founded are still part of the Church's
teaching; and if it were possible to conceive a return
of the ecclesiastical supremacy of former days, there
is little doubt that the same pohcy would be urged.
Happily for many of us, civil governments are be-
coming more and more reluctant to be guided by
ecclesiastical principles and wishes in the discharge of
their function to the community. Logical and candid
writers like Dr. Ward admit this. It is said that
he found Huxley once examining his premises, and
was asked by him " where he kept his stake for
heretics ! "

A second great source of strength in the Roman

THE CHURCH OF ROME 247

Church is its impressive use of gesthetic agencies. The
subject has been treated already, and hardly needs to
be enlarged on. In Protestant countries, where the
reaction against Roman corruption has reduced the
worship to a state o£ spiritual nudity, this attraction
of the Catholic services is very powerful. A com-
parison of the percentage of converts in various
parishes with the sensuous attractiveness of their
services would yield interesting results.

Other forces which are peculiarly at work in the
Church of Rome can only be briefly mentioned. Its
vast and imposing diplomatic body of legates, &c.,
and its incessant political intrigue, have no parallel
in any other religion; nor has the great wealth it
gathers every year by means of an organised collec-
tion throughout the world. Owing to its profound
antiquity and its comprehensive range it can enumer-
ate a long series of humanitarian works which have
been done by men who happened to be ecclesiastics;
these become an imposing record of the Church's
wondrous benefits to humanity in art, science,
sociology, and philanthropy. So even in ethics the
Church of Rome professes a more effective promotion
of the welfare of humanity than other Churches,
though in this department its claim of special power
does not seem difficult to impugn on the test of fruits.

Such would seem to be the peculiar strength of the.
Church of Rome in the religious struggle, as distin-
guished from all other Christian sects. The influences
at work for its extension and consolidation are un-
doubtedly effective, but side by side with them it has
many characteristic weaknesses which seem to give
less assurance of its fabled immortality. In the first

248 THE CHURCH OF ROME

place, seeing that it does not shrink from and repudiate
the rational criterion which the new-born age is
applying to every existing institution, its very vast-
ness is a source of danger ; it presents a broader front
to the keen rationalistic attack. If the mysterious
dogmas which are common to all Christian sects invite
criticism, nothing is gained in point of security by
adding to them that microcosm of miracles — Transub-
stantiation — or the seven sacraments, or the vaguely
floating tradition of an Immaculate Conception. Then,
too, the Church of Rome is so dogmatic in its teaching,
and has so frequently to abandon very positive posi-
tions. In other sects the privilege of private judgment
and the absence of an authoritative magisterium give
greater elasticity under hostile pressure.

Again the ideal of a higher life which the Church
of Rome puts forward brings it into conflict with
modern moraUsts. Self -torment will never again be
recognised by the world at large as the supreme virtue,
yet the saints of the Roman calendar are honoured
principally for that practice. One of the most recent
models that the Church has raised up for the venera-
tion of humanity, Benedict Joseph Labre, shows the
exemplary record of having avoided labour and lived
by mendicancy, and having deliberately cultivated the
most filthy habits. Usefulness to humanity is now
.held to be the highest virtue, and the Church pays
little heed to that in canonisation. In fact, the very
essence of its ethical teaching is entirely at variance
with modern views. It teaches conformity with an
external standard (about which there are iimumerable
controversies) and this for the sake of conciliating a
Supreme Being and escaping his presumed vindictive-

THE CHURCH OF ROME 249

ness. There is a growing tendency to regard actions
that spring from such motives as non-ethical.

In fine, the very methods from which its strength
is now derived will one day prove grievous sources
of offence, for the simple reason that they are incon-
sistent with its real function as a purely religious
organism. Diplomatic intrigue and the exercise of a
purely temporal power may serve for the moment to
extend and strengthen its influence; but they are
agencies of a very questionable character in the hands
of a spiritual body, and have more than once inspired
an effective protest against Rome. And it need hardly
be said that its literary exclusiveness, its Index, its
tyraimy, its wilful calumniation of great opponents
and distortion of their criticisms, are very vulnerable
parts of its system. As yet they are effective methods
of preserving the integrity of the Church. But in the
better educated nations they are already being dis-
carded. Laymen are now taking the polemical work
on their own shoulders, and interpreting the strictures
of theologians at their own discretion. The result will
be an impatient rejection of tlie literary restrictions
which have so long insulted their intelligence and
moral courage.

Such, then, are the strength and the weakness re-
spectively of the Church of Rome in the present stage
of its conflict. During its protracted existence it has
encountered and triumphed over many kinds of opposi-
tion. It emerged victorious from its secular struggle
with polytlicistic Rome and with the destructive neo-
Ilellcnism of Alexandria; it met confidently and rose
upon tiie fl«K)d of barbarism that poured out over
Southern Europe; it guided its fortunes safely through

250 THE CHURCH OF ROME

the age of iron that followed, and then controlled the
fierce intellectual activity of the twelfth and tliirteenth
centuries; it subdued and repressed the Renaissance
and almost compensated its losses in the great Re-
formation. But the Church has never had so varied
and so powerful a host of adversaries to encounter as
it has at the present day. Apart altogether from the
rival Christian sects— and in point of fact these seem
more disposed to friendly alliance with it than to a
continued conflict— the number of opposing forces of
every character, intellectual, ethical, poUtical, and
aesthetical, is a matter of grave consideration.

In the first place, there is Rationalism— taking the
term in its broad sense so as to include not only
" naturahsm," but also that attenuated theism which
rejects orthodox Christianity in virtue of the results
of the Higher Criticism. In that sense the term does
not designate a single and homogeneous system, but a
huge collection of distinct and mihtant bodies-
Materialism, Agnosticism, Positivism, Pantheism,
Secularism, Theism, and Unitarianism. They may
all be safely grouped under the banner of anti-sacer-
dotalism, and described as a formidable intellectual
movement directed against orthodox Christianity in
general and the Church of Rome in particular, the
most dogmatic, conservative, and unyielding section
of Christianity, led by the most powerful and most
skilfully organised priesthood the world has ever seen.
Non-Catholic sects have no stereotyped profession;
they yield and adapt themselves to pressure, as is so
well illustrated in Mr. Mallock's " New RepubHc."
The revolutionary movement finds its chief antagonist
in the Church of Rome, which wages with it appar-

THE CHURCH OF ROME 251

ently a guerre a outrance. How extensive that move-
ment is — embracing, as it does, all who accept the
results of philosophical, scientific, historical, and bibli-
cal criticism — and how powerfully represented in every
brancii of literature, is too well known and too fre-
quently pointed out by clerical writers themselves to
need enlarging upon.

Then there is a distinctively modern force of an
ethical character which militates against the authority
of the Church. In the United States, England, and
Germany especially, a number of Ethical Societies
have been founded and propagated with much zeal.
They do not profess hostility to ecclesiastical institu-
tions, but the mere fact that they advocate the trans-
ference of ethical life to a non-theological basis marks
them out as enemies. The Church of Rome, in par-
ticular, regards herself as the only effective guardian
of morality, and the ethical function of its priests is
their most prominent service. It will never submit
to the transfer of ethical interests to a secular institu-
tion; otherwise it would be reduced to the condition
of the Greek or Roman priesthood — a condition which
would not last long in modern times. Yet the Ethical
Societies rapidly grow in importance.

In the political world the Church has met with
harsh treatment from time immemorial, and its own
diplomatic power has grown keen in the long contest.
But the political anti-clerical movement of modern
times is in a very different position from the violent
movements of that character which are dispersed
throughout history. Until the last century the anti-
clerical i)olitician or diplomatist had no great anti-
theological system to fall back upon. Now, the large

252 THE CHURCH OF ROME

body who are ever ready to spring up in reaction
against the Church's pohtical encroachments have a
powerful philosophy to appeal to. Formerly the
Church's troubles generally came from a few sceptical
individuals; now they spring from large political
bodies, such as the Liberals of Spain and Belgium,
the Libres-Penseurs of France, and the Freemasons
of Italy. To the same great force must be added
(from the present point of view) a new and anxiously
regarded power— Socialism. The Church is very
sensible of approaching danger from this quarter ; and
therefore, instead of its traditional practice of fiercely
opposing every new movement, we find it attempting
a compromise by patronising " Christian Socialism."
This sociological force does not spend much time in
discussing the Church's credentials. The thinkers of
the modern world, it says, are fairly divided about the
rehgious problem, and that problem has, under their
attentions, assumed portentous dimensions; hence we
busy people must be content with a mild scepticism,
and if the Church crosses our path in reforming this
world so much the worse for it.

A fourth influence of a less tangible and definable
character may be set down under the head of Erotism.
It may be thought that this is no new danger, but the
world-old revolt of human nature against Christian
ethics. But there are two considerations which make
that influence present rather a new aspect. The first
is the enfeeblement of the popular faith in the super-
natural. The fourteenth, fifteenth, and eighteenth
centuries were marked by great outbreaks of that
influence, or by the spread of pubhc immorality ; but
a keen faith still lurked in the popular mind, and the

THE CHURCH OF ROME 253

Church could successfully appeal to it. A Savonarola
could meet and stem a veritable tide of Hellenism.
In the present division of the world of thought, and
seeing the imposing opposition to ecclesiastical teach-
ing, that simple faith must be, and is, deeply affected ;
and erotism gains proportionately in power and
stability. The second consideration is that this erot-
ism, or revolt against traditional ethics, has become
speculative and ratiocinative, and seeks to organise its
votaries and systematise its protest. What is called
literary decadence is, perhaps, midway between
practical and organised immorality ; it is a great literary
power, very widespread in France, and on the increase
in England and Germany. The free-love movement
has also assumed important proportions, and counts
some eminent literary exponents. There is, further,
an a_'stlietic and Hellenistic school which will prove a
serious adversary of traditional ethics. In practice it
adheres to a severe Puritanism ; in theory it is revolu-
tionary. It cherishes the higher Greek ideal' of love
(as found in Plato) ; venerates the writings of Whit-
man, Nietzsche, and Carpenter; has all the fervour of
youth and the fanaticism of ascetics.

Such are the forces which the Church of Rome finds
opposed to it at the beginning of the twcntietli century.
I hesitate to enter on tlie i)ath of prophecy, but a few
observations may be offered as to the direction in which
we may seek development. In the first place, I wholly
dissent from Mr. H. G. Wells when he anticipates " a
great revival of Catliolicisni," and thinks it will out-
live Protestantism. The Protestant or Puritan religious
temperament is as natural and enduring as the Catholic
or Ritualist. I do not believe either will survive the

254 THE CHURCH OF ROME

other, though the Protestant sects are likely to relax
the sternness of their exclusion of the ministry of art
from the temple. And from what I have already said
in this chapter it Mill be clear that I do not accept
the current rationalistic feeling that Rome will survive
because of its doctrine of authority.

But so shrewd and informed an observer as Mr.
Wells has probably built on existing movements rather
than on theories, and here, it seems to me, he has
really even less support. There is every indication
that the Church of Rome has reached, and is already
falling away from, its high- water mark. Germany is
perhaps the only country where the Church has made
genuine progress in the last few decades ^ ; and against
this must be put the " away from Rome " movement
in Austria, the secession of many hundreds of priests
and a corresponding number of the laity to the
evangelical movement in France, and heavy losses in
the industrial northern provinces of Italy and Spain
and aU over Belgium. But observers are misled chiefly
by the apparent advance of Roman Catholicism in the
English-speaking world. One might almost dismiss
that phenomenon with one word — the Irish dispersion.
The population of Ireland should be to-day, if it had
had a normal growth, about 17,000,000. It is actually
less than four millions and a half. The missing twelve
millions, mostly Roman Catholics, are in England,
Australia, and the United States. If the Roman

^ Again I must make a correction ; and it is singular to note
that, wherever I erred in the first edition, I erred in favour of the
Church. I have shown in my " Decay of the Church of Rome " that it
is, on the confession of its own clergy, losing ground all over the
world. It has lost a hundred million followers in a hundred years.
Third edition.

THE CHURCH OF ROME 255

Church in England had retained the population it had
at the begimiing of the nineteenth century, as well
as the million of Irish immigrants, it should have to-
day, apart from any conversions, about 2,500,000 souls.
I have proved (National Itcview, August 1901) that it
has not more than 1,250,000. In other words, its
losses are enormously larger than its gains. What I
have said of Catholicism in London and the provinces
will confirm this. I will add one other illustration.
There is a long strip of the Lancasliire coast called
the Fylde which curiously retained the faith down to
the nineteenth century. But I was told a few years ago
by a jjriest who has worked for years in that district
that the old Catholic families are falling away to-day
in a remarkable manner. The last census taken in
Australia pointed to a distinct decrease of Catholicism
in that country. Recent inquiries in New York have
put that city on a level with London; against the great
parade of wealthy converts must be put immense losses
amongst the poor Irish and their descendants. The
overwlielming majority of the 12,000,000 Irish who
are missing from their country to-day are in the
United States ; and they have made mixed marriages,
under the usual stringent conditions, on every side.
To these must be added a great immigration of Italian
and German Catholics. With these elements the aj)-
parent growth of Catholicism in the States is easily
explained. I will add one further observation on
Catholicism in iMaiice. It is acknowledged that French
wen do not favour the Church. But when we remem-
ber that the Church forbids the use of contraceptives
under |)ain of mortal sin, and then find the French
population so long nearly stationary, and Karn that

256 THE CHURCH OF ROME

there are in France only some 200,000 women with
more than six children, we are forced to question
the authority of the Church even over the women.
Thus on patient consideration of the condition
of each country the proud CathoUc claim of having
250,000,000 followers collapses like an inflated bladder.
The area of the Church's influence is shrinking
yearly.

In former ages it compensated home losses by mis-
sionary conquests ; its actual paltry missionary profits
are little more than financial transactions. I have
spoken with missionaries from every one of the great
fields, and they all confirm the opinion. On public
platforms, of course, they deliver optimistic speeches,
at the end of which a collection is made; but in the
genial atmosphere of the sitting-room afterwards they
unbend, and unequivocally represent " conversions '*
of natives as money matters.

And when we turn to consider the movements of
thought within the Church we seem to have another
indication of the coming development. If we cannot
admit either that Catholicism will in time absorb its
rivals, or will itself be superseded by them, there is
only one alternative. Its distinctive features will
gradually disappear, its rigid walls will crumble away,
until at length it pours its historic stream of spiritual
effort into the broad unsectarian spirit of a later day.
By its distinctive features I do not understand the
famous " four notes of the true Church — unity, holi-
ness, universality, and apostolicity " — which are in no
sense distinctive of the Church of Rome to-day. Its
characteristics are rather — asceticism, excessive dog-
matism, elaborate ritual, and the Papacy. It seems

THE CHURCH OF ROME 257

to me that these features are visibly altering, and that
we may confidently look forward to their complete
disappearance or transformation.

If one thing may be claimed to be established in
the preceding chapters it is that the ascetic spirit is
rapidly decaying in the Church of Rome. Here and
there a group of Carthusian monks ^ cling more or less
to the medieval idea, but throughout the monastic
world generally voluntary austerities are no longer
practised, and the austerities enjoined by rule are
evaded, or compensated, as much as possible. When
this is true of the monks it is superfluous to discuss
the laity. The law of abstinence from flesh-meat on
certain days, the only ascetic practice now imposed
on them, is relaxing year by year. Before the century
is out Rome, too, will have quietly abandoned the
ascetic ideal. The decay of the dogmatic feeling
amongst Roman Catholics is less patent, but hardly less
real. Beneath the outward uniformity, which the
Vatican is still able to exact or to persuade, there is
the same difference of thought and feeling as in every
other sect. A considerable number of cases have
lately come to my knowledge of priests who are quite
as liberal as Dr. Mivart ; in some cases as sceptical
as myself. They intend to remain in the Church,
and work for the removal of the emphasis from belief
to conduct. The twentieth century will witness most
considerable modifications in this respect. As the

* I have repeatedly spoken of the asceticism of the Carthusian
monks. It is only fair to the reader to say that this is not beyond
question. A friend of mine told me of certain personal experi-
ences at the Grande Ghaitreuse in France, which made; it clear that
at least a good part of the monks were far from ascetic. Third
edition.

258 THE CHURCH OF ROME

Catholic ritual is only the artistic presentment of its
doctrines some changes in this are bound to ensue,
but — as we see so well in the decay of the old Roman
religion — forms and ceremonies may long survive the
beliefs that originally inspired them. There will also
be a ritual advance in the other Christian Churches,
so that here, too, the distinguishing feature tends to
disappear. Before many decades Latin will cease to
be the universal liturgical language; though in such
forms as the mass — a symbolic sacrifice which the
people only witness — it may remain indefinitely. And
the Papacy ^^'ill be proportionately modified. In the
coming age of increasing centralisation and organisa-
tion it is not at all hkely that the Roman Catholics
will part with their magnificent polity. But the
Vatican will see strange changes. For a time the
aesthetic sense will persuade the new Cathohcism to
tolerate the ghtter and the stage-lightning of the
papal court. But it will gradually approximate to
the model of the actual Free Church organisation.
The president of the Church Catholic in the year 2000
will have as little resemblance to Leo XHL in his
Sedia gestatoria as the president of the German
Republic of that date will have to William IL

To conclude by borrowing a fine metaphor from
Mr. Wells ; it would be hazardous to say when the
Catholics may be expected finally to extinguish the
sectarian lantern by which they have so long guided
the steps of men. The day is fast breaking, and one
by one the old hghts will disappear. But if our social
evolution is to be unequal — if we are content to leave
vast areas such as the workers, or women, in mental
obscurity — Catholicism may last indefinitely. If the

THE CHURCH OF ROME 259

new light is to penetrate to every part of our social
structure, it cannot be many centuries before the last
faint flicker of the historic lamp will die out, nay,
will even be voluntarily extinguished in the blaze of
the coming day.

THE END

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Twelve years in a monastery
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